


Nothing You Can Possess

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Fables & Other Tales [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Indiana Jones AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673
Summary: A tale of a man fallen from grace, given an opportunity to find the greatest treasure of an age before it falls into the hands of a Tevinter cult and their nefarious schemes. And of course, the one woman clever enough and talented enough to help him find it.When an old friend walks into his university office offering Loghain Mac Tir the chance to not only find the Legendary Urn of Sacred Ashes, but to possibly make amends for the greatest mistake of his life, he finds himself diving into a mystery of history and the occult. With the help of his ex-lover (and the love of his life), Theadosia Trevelyan, they engage in a race against time and across nations to find an ancient treasure and, perhaps, something even more valuable.
Relationships: Loghain Mac Tir/Female Trevelyan
Series: Fables & Other Tales [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244933
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

“Alright, that will be it for today. Read chapters three and four of _Travels of a Chantry Scholar_ and be ready to discuss them next week, and have your essays on religious bias in history and archaeology done by the fifteenth.”

There followed the usual rustling of papers and scraping of chairs against the old tiles, as well as the cheerful chatter that had been more or less held back during his lecture. There were a handful of inquiries about extensions for the essay or about office hours for the following week, but for the most part the students swept out of the lecture hall in a mass of indifferent youth and oblivion. Which suited Loghain Mac Tir fine.

Teaching was not the worst place he could have ended up, all things considered. Given the disaster that was the Battle of Ostagar, he could have well ended up tried and hanged for what many people considered to be his greatest mistake, though he still privately believed he had done the right thing. He had weighed the value of a single life against the lives of hundreds, and made his choice. The fact that the single life had been that of his king, his son-in-law, and the son of his best friend had made the decision infinitely more difficult than it should have been, but when all was said and done he still stood by his choice, regrets and all.

Fortunately for him his daughter had, eventually, come to the same conclusion. Had she not, it was entirely likely he would have either ended up executed or sent to the brig for the rest of his natural life. As it stood, he would never again be trusted to command armies or lead battles. That part of his life was over, and no amount of wishing or regret would bring it back. Instead, he had been given a post at the University of Denerim and was occasionally sent into the field at Anora’s behest, seeking out artifacts of cultural significance to Ferelden. Originally, he had only been meant to be teaching the archaeology classes, but he had ended up taking on a series of history classes as well. He did not mind: it meant Anora had no reason to appoint a replacement, which would have meant finally acknowledging the absence of the woman who had taught them before.

Besides, it kept him busy, and keeping busy meant pushing aside the heartache and regrets that _did_ keep him up at night. Loghain had long since come to terms with what had happened at Ostagar, but had never dealt with the fallout that came after. His decision on the battlefield had been difficult, but he had never doubted it. The decision he made later, when the shame and disgrace and infamy were at their zenith and he was trying so hard to protect the people he loved… that was the decision that left him with sleepless nights.

Three years gone, and still he had not forgotten her. He still had not moved on.

With a long sigh, he gathered up his papers and stowed them in his briefcase before turning to wipe the blackboard clean. No one had been more surprised than him that teaching actually suited him: he was, by most accounts, a charismatic and well-spoken lecturer, and his classes were popular despite of, or maybe because of, his reputation. He kept his head down amongst his colleagues, who were more or less split down the middle as to whether they accepted his presence or not, and just tried to do his job as best he could. He enjoyed the subject matter, at least. Loghain’s life had been spared, so he figured he may as well make the best of it.

Of course, that would have been made infinitely easier had he not completely fucked it up.

Shaking his head to banish the persistent but useless line of thinking, Loghain left the now empty and echoing classroom, shutting the door behind him and making his way through the rapidly thinning crowd of people towards his office. It was late in the day, and most of the faculty and nearly all the students were heading home or back to the residence halls for the evening. The resulting quiet gave him a good opportunity to catch up on his own work and prepare for the next day’s classes. Besides: it was not as if he had any particular reason to hurry home.

He switched on his desk lamp and began reviewing the notes he had jotted down for the lecture on Tevene influences in the development of Orlesian power structures. It was well beyond his area of expertise, of course, but it had been well within _hers_. He was still grateful that Anora had resisted the persistence of the board of directors at the university and refused to consider applications or nominations for the vacant history professorship. She had always come up with one excuse or another, and they had all been blatant nonsense, but no one on the board was stupid enough to argue with the queen of Ferelden, nor were they inclined to suggest that perhaps her dearest friend had no intention of ever coming home to take the job back.

His attention was inevitably drawn from the papers in front of him to the single framed photo that was the only concession he made regarding décor on his desk. It was a rare thing, that photo: she had always been reluctant to have her picture taken, though he could not even begin to understand why. She was the single most beautiful woman he had ever known, and even now his heart seemed to skip a beat as Loghain stared at the woman smiling back at him through the years. Auburn hair tumbled down her back in an echo of autumn, and storm blue eyes seemed to look back at him with that unique blend of passion and amusement and challenge that was hers and hers alone. The smile tilting at her lips was real and full and rare; a gift shared with precious few and priceless beyond words.

Maker take him but he missed her.

Loghain set the photo back down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had done what he had thought was best for her: she was a Trevelyan by birth and had been raised a Cousland. She had been a professor, yes, but she had also been one of the heiresses of Seawolf & Steed, the greatest economic empire in southern Thedas. Brilliant, clever, passionate, and fiercely loyal, she would have stayed if he had asked her to. If he had let her. Leaving her… it had been the hardest thing Loghain had ever done, but he could not bear the idea of her living with the shame he would have brought her, nor her heartbreak if he had ended up dead.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a quiet but intent knock at his office door. His brow sank into a slight frown as he called out to his unwelcome guest. “Office hours are tomorrow from eight o’clock in the morning until noon.”

Despite his words and to his great irritation, the visitor was not deterred, instead opening his door and stepping inside. Loghain was about to protest more vehemently when he recognized the willowy figure who gracefully entered his office and the words caught in his throat. She deftly removed the veiled hat, revealing neatly braided and knotted ginger hair and calm, knowing violet eyes.

“Given the nature of my business here, I rather think we would be better off speaking _outside_ of your traditional office hours, Loghain.”

“Lady Howe,” Loghain finally managed, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “It has been…”

“Nearly three years, yes,” Cataline replied, removing her gloves and laying them neatly on her lap. “You have done a remarkable job of avoiding me.”

“Your husband threatened to murder me the last time I saw him,” Loghain retorted dryly. “Something about making sure I was put through just as much pain as-”

“As you put Thea through?”

Loghain looked away from her, but to his surprise Cat reached out a gentle hand to place over his. “I think you have suffered plenty, Loghain,” she spoke quietly, her eyes drifting to the photo on his desk. “I know perfectly well you miss her just as much as we do. Probably more, if we are being honest.”

He shrugged. “It was my own fault,” he pointed out, resignation in his words. “But I assume you did not come here simply to tear open old wounds?”

Cat sighed, but did not press the issue. “Not exactly,” she confirmed. “I have a job for you.”

“I already have a job,” Loghain pointed out. “Two, in fact. Three, if you count the work I do for Anora out in the field.”

“Precisely. I need you to retrieve something for me. Something that is of unspeakable importance to the fields of archaeology and history, and to Ferelden itself.”

Loghain’s frown deepened. “And what makes you think I am better suited to track it down than anyone else? You of all people have connections all over the world. Surely you can find someone better than a washed up general and disgraced military advisor. Anora passes me the occasional project to keep me from going mad, but I am hardly your only, or even your best, choice.”

“On that, Loghain, we will have to agree to disagree,” Cat replied evenly. “Because you are correct: I could have my choice of treasure hunters to go out and seek this particular object, and I have still chosen you. You, of all people, ought to understand that I do not make decisions of this magnitude lightly or without serious consideration. No, Loghain: I do not trust anyone else with this task. Only you.”

He studied her carefully for a moment. She was right, of course. Lady Cataline Howe was not one to act impulsively or without careful forethought. If she was here, and if she was speaking to him after everything that had happened with her beloved cousin, then there was a very good reason. “Alright, Cataline. What is it, exactly, that you are so desperate to find that you came to me?”

She gave him a small smile. “The Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

“You are joking. You have to be joking,” he stared at her in open disbelief. “Cataline, the Urn is a myth. A legend. Even if it did exist at one time, and I am not even convinced of that, the likelihood of it still being intact and still containing the alleged ashes of Andraste is infinitesimally small.”

“I have every reason to believe that not only is the Urn real, but so are its alleged healing properties,” Cat countered. “You know I am not one for idle speculation or random whims. I would not ask you to do this if I had no reason to think there was something to find.” She reached into her handbag and retrieved a file folder, sliding it across the desk towards him. “The most recent intelligence we have places the Urn somewhere in the Western Approach. Legend has it that it ended up there hundreds of years ago after it was stolen from its resting place in The Temple of Sacred Ashes in the Frostback Mountains. For the first time, we have a lead that may actually hold the key to finding it.”

Despite his better judgement, Loghain reached for the file and began paging through it. “Why now?” He asked. “Why the sense of urgency?”

Cat bit her lower lip slightly, her brow knitting into a small frown. “For one thing, as I said, this is the first time in ages we have had anything real to go on. This information has been buried for a long time, and only an exceptionally talented researcher was able to dig up this much. This will be, unquestionably, the greatest archaeological find in Fereldan history, and finding it would be an untold morale booster for a country still recovering from the war. For another,” she sighed heavily. “For another, we are not the only ones looking for it. We believe a rogue group of Tevinter operatives are also seeking the Urn, and I assure you, their intentions are far less honorable than ours.”

Loghain studied the photos in the file, as well as the neatly typed notes that accompanied them. “Cataline,” he spoke quietly, “I have no doubt this seems important, but really, are you certain it is not just going to turn into a wild goose chase? A wild goose chase in _Orlais_ , of all places. You know they would not exactly be thrilled to have me traipsing about there.”

“As if that would ever stop you.”

Loghain stared her down for a long moment, and Cat returned his gaze with her own unflinching violent eyes. Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Give me one good reason I ought to take this job.”

A small smile tilted at Cat’s lips. “Oh, I know you do not need the money, Loghain, just like I know you do not give a damn about the fame or even the religious sentiment. Still, I can give you two very good reasons why you are going to take this job. First,” she raised one delicate finger, “It is going to be the greatest archaeological find of the age, and you will not be able to resist the opportunity.”

When he did not respond, she raised a second finger, and a glint of steel flashed in her normally serene eyes. “And second, you are going to do this because you damn well owe me, Loghain Mac Tir. It is your fault my favorite cousin and my husband’s best friend has exiled herself to some maker-forsaken hole in the Hinterlands, and this will be one small step towards clearing that not unsubstantial debt.”

_Damn_.

Cataline had hit at the one place she knew would sting the most, and would be the most likely to make him acquiesce. His eyes drifted once more to the photo on his desk, and Cat made a small noise of sympathy, then reached back into her bag. “Here,” she said softly. “These are the originals of the notes I gave you in the folder.”

Loghain took the sheets of paper, and his heart nearly stopped when he recognized the messy scrawl that filled them. “Theadosia wrote these,” he whispered. “She is the one you had researching the Urn. She has found it.”

“She was on the trail, yes,” Cat confirmed. “And if anyone will be able to help you track this thing down, it will be her, so I suggest you swallow your damn pride and go to her.” She stood up, carefully pulling on her gloves and replacing her hat, pinning it in place with a delicate wildflower hatpin.

“I still have not accepted the job,” Loghain protested, but Cat’s answering smile told him she already knew damn well he would.

“I have included Thea’s current whereabouts in the file,” she replied gently. “Perhaps I should have given them to you sooner; I don’t know.”

“She will not be happy with you for telling me,” Loghain pointed out, but he felt a surge of gratitude in his heart nonetheless. Cataline had always been kind to him, even when he did not deserve it. She responded with a small shrug and a kind smile.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” She walked around the desk and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I need the Urn found,” she said as she straightened and headed for the door, “But I need her to come home even more. If I can catch two birds with one net, well…” She let the thought trail off. As she opened the door, Loghain caught the eye of Cataline’s husband, Nathaniel Howe. Nathaniel eyed him coldly, then gave a stiff nod as he escorted his wife out of Loghain’s office. Cat may have forgiven him, or at least been willing to offering an olive branch, but her husband was clearly still angry with Loghain. Not that he could blame him. Cat had been right: it was his fault that Nathaniel’s best friend had disappeared off the face of Thedas.

Loghain breathed a long, slow exhale. Then, picking up the folder and tucking it into his briefcase, he switched off his desk lamp and made his own way to the door.

He had packing to do.

* * *

Loghain was debating between two maps when he heard the front door open and then quietly close downstairs. Tossing them both into his bag alongside a pile of hastily folded shirts and his sidearm, he left his bedroom and descended the stairs to greet the only person who would have the confidence to walk in his house without knocking. Or at least, the only person still in Denerim.

“I assume Cat managed to persuade you to help us?”

“Us?” Loghain raised a brow in his daughter’s direction, automatically setting the kettle on for her favorite tea before he turned to face her. “She never suggested you were involved.”

“Of course I am,” Anora replied calmly, settling down at the kitchen table and neatly pushing aside a pile of papers Loghain had not gotten around to filing properly. “Surely she impressed upon you the importance of us finding the Urn before our opponents do.”

“She did,” Loghain confirmed, pouring the boiling water over the metal strainer and waiting for the tea to steep. “Though I am still at a loss as to why you want me involved at all.”

Anora gave him a small smile as she accepted the delicate porcelain cup he handed over before taking a seat across from her. “Yes you do, father,” she corrected. “First of all, we needed someone _I_ trust. That list is, as you well know, incredibly short. Second of all, we needed someone _Thea_ would trust. You know her temper: she is not going to hand over her knowledge to just any treasure hunter who asks her.”

“And what makes you think she trusts me, Anora?” Loghain asked quietly. “You know what happened. You know what I did to her.”

His daughter sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Because she loves you, you idiot,” she replied, her words uncharacteristically blunt. “You think she has stayed in exile all this time simply because it suited her? She hates being away from the city; away from Cat and Nate and myself. She misses her work at the university and she hates having to do her work for Seawolf & Steed from so far away. But most of all?” Anora looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze steady and her tone firm. “Most of all, father, she misses you.”

Loghain turned away from her, unwilling to let her see the pain her words had struck in his heart. “Anora, I had to leave her. You know why I did.”

“I know you thought you did,” she replied gently. “I know you thought you were protecting her, just as you thought you were protecting me in the fallout from Ostagar. But did you ever ask her what _she_ wanted, or did you simply make the choice for her?”

He did not answer right away, and Anora stood up and moved towards the room he used as a home office. Loghain followed, and was only mildly surprised when she stopped in front of his desk. “Let me ask you this,” she spoke again, her words deceptively conversational. “How do you feel about seeing her again? About finally being able to speak to her after all this time.”

“I… I am not certain, Anora,” he admitted.

Anora opened a drawer and began ferreting around. “Maybe it is time, father, for you to try to fix things. Because I know perfectly well you still love her. You have never _once_ stopped loving her.”

“Anora,” Loghain said, “I am not certain things _can_ be fixed between Theadosia and me. I am not certain I have any right to ask it of her.” 

Anora finally found what she was looking for; what Loghain had already guessed she was trying to find. She retrieved the small box from where he had shoved it to the back of his desk drawer three years earlier and deposited it in his hand. They both knew what it held; what it meant to him. A promise of another life; one where he had not walked away from the love of his life.

“Maybe you can fix things, and maybe you cannot,” Anora agreed, then met his eyes with a challenge in her own.

“The more important question is whether you can live with yourself if you do not try.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Amateur_.

Theadosia Trevelyan stared down her latest victim, a taunt simmering behind the half smile on her lips and cold certainty in her eyes. It had been some time since there had been anyone new to come through the backwater village that was Redcliffe, and therefore it had been simply ages since there had been anyone stupid enough or naïve enough to challenge her at her own game. This one was a templar or, as she thought of them, chantry sanctioned bullies. Some of them weren’t so bad, but this one clearly was, and therefore she felt very little guilt over her taking advantage of his hubris and bluster.

His grin was cocky as he reached for the glass in front of him, lifting the shot to his lips and downing it with a flourish. _Stupid. Made it easier to see him nearly miss his mouth. And his eyes are glassy. I give it one, maybe two more shots._ The crowd egged him on, already knowing the outcome but curious to see just how far the newcomer would get before they dragged him out of the bar and out into the snowy streets to sober up.

Thea reached for her own glass, throwing back the shot of cheap whiskey without preamble or hesitation, then sat back and waited for the templar to make his move. Despite the smirk still plastered on his face, she could see the panic rising in his eyes; could practically hear the nausea roiling in his stomach. He reached out and took another glass, but seemed to sip just a bit slower as he swallowed. He watched her, his entire expression falling as she reached over, picked up a glass, and tossed back another shot.

She made a show of seeming to reel from the liquor hitting her throat, wobbling slightly in her chair even as she kept one eye on her opponent. He grinned unsteadily, reaching for one more shot. He lifted the glass, drew it towards his lips, then fell to the floor with an impressive crash. Thea rolled her eyes as the crowd erupted into enthusiastic cheers, picking the final shot up from the table and swallowing it before gesturing to two of the more burly locals to collect the templar and drag him outside. Either his fellows would come and collect him or she would call the local chantry before she left for the night.

“Here,” she passed her winnings over to her friend, Sera, with the usual instructions. “Make sure this gets to someone who actually needs it, yes?”

“’Course I will,” Sera agreed, neatly stacking the bills and squirreling them away in one of her numerous pockets. “Pretty good haul tonight, yeah?”

“Not bad,” Thea agreed, collecting empty glasses as most of the other patrons filtered out into the night. It was later than she thought, and she would need to close up soon. “Been a while since we’ve had someone new to mess with, hasn’t it?”

Sera gave an amused snort. “Yeah it has. Anyways, I’ll see you sometime?”

“Good night, Sera,” Thea nodded, turning back towards the bar and mentally considering how long it would take her to clean up. The irresponsible, slightly tipsy part of her wanted to just leave the mess ‘til tomorrow. The dishes were not going anywhere, but she also knew she had a pile of reports to review for her day job when morning rolled back around. Cat had mailed them a week ago, and Thea needed to hurry up and get them completed so that the deal they were trying to broker with the Anderfels could be finalized. There were definite drawbacks to trying to run her portion of the family business from the middle of fuck-all nowhere, but it had been her choice.

More or less.

And she had kept surprisingly busy in the Hinterlands. Her work for Seawolf & Steed occupied her during the day, then running the dive bar occupied her nights. She was not even that great of a bartender: she had picked up a few tricks from Varric back in Denerim, but nothing terribly impressive. The locals did not seem to care much, though. They were grateful for a place to hide out to avoid going home, or to sprawl out with a deck of cards and a mug of good ale, or to simply drink away a heartache. Thea was all too familiar with that last one. Keeping busy had been the only safeguard she had against the pain in her own heart, and the malignant loneliness that fed on her own stubbornness.

Three years she had lived in this remote, backwards little town, pouring drinks and listening to hopes and dreams, worries and fears, and pretending like it was the only life she had ever known. People round these parts did not tend to ask about where you came from so long as you minded your own. They would gossip amongst themselves, of course, but Thea was used to that. At least this gossip was relatively benign. A handful of people knew who she was, and a handful more knew why she was there in the first place, but for the most part she had been left alone to live a quiet, unassuming life.

It was not the life she wanted. Not even close. That life had been taken from her the day her heart had been broken, and now it was easier to keep pretending then to go home and try to carry on in the same city has him, acting like everything was behind her and that she did not care one bit about him. That she was not still stubbornly, stupidly, hopelessly in love with him.

Every day she wanted to go home; to go back to Denerim. She missed her favorite cousin and her best friend. She missed Nora, and she missed being in a city with proper restaurants and theaters and clubs. She missed her job at the university, teaching history and imparting her passion for the subject. Every day she missed it, and every day she felt the pull of home calling her.

And every day, she ignored it. Because every day, she missed him most of all. 

Thea sighed and turned on the hot water in the sink. If she did not do the dishes now, she would have to put off her other work tomorrow until they were taken care of. Besides, based on her current train of thought, she would not be able to fall asleep any time soon. Better to do something useful with her insomnia than lie away longing for a touch she knew she should no longer dream of, and a voice that could make her weak simply by speaking her name.

A gust of frigid air and distant laughter heralded the opening of the front door. Though she did not turn around, Thea did slowly set aside her washrag and reach for the gun she kept under the counter. She had never had to use it, but the villagers knew better than to try to slink in after hours hoping for a grace period on last call, which meant whoever had opened that door was not from around here. Possibly just lost, but it never paid to take chances. Gun in hand but tucked behind her back, Thea finally turned to face her unexpected visitor.

“Hello, Theadosia.”

Thea stared for a long moment, temporarily incapable of feeling annoyed at being caught off guard. She could feel her heartbeat leap from a steady pulse to a racing thrum against her chest, and her breath grow a hair more shallow. Andraste take her, but he still made her feel weak just by looking at her. Despite everything, that did not seem to have changed: he still managed to look at her as if she were the only person in the world.

“Loghain Mac Tir.”

He took a step inside, closing the door behind him, brushing the snow off of his leather jacket and removing his hat. She’d always loved that stupid thing; had rarely seen him outside without it after she had bought it for him. After kicking the snow off his boots, he nodded out the window in the direction of the templar who was currently being loaded into a car by his fellow soldiers. “Boyfriend of yours?”

That snapped her back to reality, and her features settled into what she hoped was a withering glare. “Not that it is any of your maker damned business, but no, he is not. I have not been with-” She stopped short, her frown deepening. “It is none of your damn business,” she repeated instead, but she saw Loghain had already heard her words; could nearly hear the faint sigh of what she could almost swear was relief. He approached the bar but kept some distance between them.

“You… you are looking well, Theadosia.”

“Well for what, exactly?” She shot back. “For being in a miserable dive bar in the middle of fucking nowhere?”

“That is not exactly what I was going for, no,” he replied, keeping his tone even. He knew her too well; knew when she was spoiling for a fight. “It would be more accurate to say that you are somehow even more beautiful than the day you left Denerim. An impressive feat, as I did not think it was possible.”

“And the pretty words are… what? Supposed to make me forget what you did?”

Loghain shook his head. “No, I know better than that. But you are still you. And yes, you are still stunning, just as I am still terrible at small talk.” He studied her for a moment, winter blue eyes searching hers for something. “I missed you, Theadosia,” he finally said softly. “I have missed you more than I can say.”

She was now deeply regretting all that whiskey. Why tonight, of all nights, did he have to show up at her door? Picking up the abandoned rag, she began wiping down the already gleaming surface of aged oak, annoyed at the pain and stubborn want it reflected back into her eyes. He was not lying to her; she knew that much. Which meant he really had missed her; maybe even as much as she had missed him. Did she possibly dare hope to believe that?

“What do you want, Mac Tir?”

He took a few steps closer, then hesitated. Probably wise, she thought wryly.

“I need your help, Theadosia.”

“Of course you do,” she muttered, turning away from him and trying to ignore the way her heart had fallen at the words. “Why else would you have bothered to track me down unless you needed something?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Theadosia, you left for a reason, and I know that reason was me. I thought that… that it would be better if I left you alone. Just as I thought you would be better off if I walked away from you. From us.”

“Fantastic,” Thea drawled, sarcasm heavy in her tone. “So you came down here to, what? Get in a few more stabs at my heart? Remind me of everything I left behind when I left Denerim?”

“Of course not, Theadosia,” Loghain replied. “Despite what you may think, I do not want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“I doubt you could.”

That seemed to strike home, and Loghain took a deep breath and a long moment to consider his next words. “Cataline sent me,” he finally spoke. “She wants me to go after the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She came to my office, showed me your notes and your research, and said you might be able to help me in my search.”

_Damn it, Cat_ , Thea cursed internally. Still, she could not resist the surge of curiosity she felt. “Why now?”

“There is a new external threat,” Loghain explained. “A splinter group from Tevinter; the venatori. What they intend to do with the Urn, I haven’t the slightest idea, but I can promise you it is not good. Cataline believes we can find it first, and I promised her I would try.”

“So why come to me?” Thea pressed. “You already have my notes, apparently. What do you need me for?”

“Cataline seemed to believe you had access to additional information that may be useful,” he said.

Thea leaned back against the bar, looking him over. He looked good too; more than he had any right to. Her mind was slipping all too easily into memories of the two of them tangled up together under the night sky wearing nothing but starlight, or walking hand in hand along the shores of the Amaranthine Ocean, or curled up together on the sofa in front of the fire. But woven into those memories were other, more painful ones: the day he told her they had to end it, for her own sake. Turning away from the station as the train bore her away from her home and towards her exile. The nights she had woken up aching for his touch.

“Maybe I do, and maybe I do not,” she shrugged, struggling to keep her voice nonchalant. “Even if I do, why in the void should I help you?”

“Theadosia, I said I was sorry.”

“Well say it again,” she snapped. “Apologize for leaving me. Apologize for the fact your damn pride was more important than my feelings. Apologize for making my choice for me instead of seeing if maybe, just maybe, I would have been crazy enough to stay by your side.” She swallowed hard, trying to push back tears she did not want him to see. “Apologize for breaking my heart, Loghain. Try that.”

He closed the distance between them, and his hand cupped her cheek gently. Thea resisted the instinct to lean into his touch; to lean back into all the memories of them. “Theadosia,” he murmured, his thumb running along her cheekbone, “I am sorry.”

Thea sighed, but she did not move away; was not certain she could. “I’ve had too much to drink to deal with this tonight, Loghain,” she finally spoke, her tone soft.

“Let me walk you home, Theadosia,” he offered. “You should not have to find your way alone in this weather.”

She shook her head. “I have to get things taken care of here.” She gestured towards the sink full of waiting glassware. “But… but come back tomorrow morning. We can talk when I’ve sobered up, and I will see what I can do to help you.”

“Thank you, Theadosia.” He reluctantly withdrew his hand from her cheek and moved toward the door. When he reached it, he turned back towards her. “For whatever it is worth… there has been no one else for me, either. And I meant it when I said I missed you.”

She managed a small nod. He returned the gesture, then slipped back out into the softly falling snow. Thea breathed a heavy exhale, walking around to the other side of the bar and sinking onto one of the stools that lined it. She picked up the whiskey from earlier, studied it for a moment, then shrugged and took a long drag straight from the bottle.

Andraste take her, but she had missed him. She had been half tempted, _more_ than half tempted, to take him up on his offer to walk her home. She knew, though, that had she done so it would not have stopped there. Loghain showing up and displaying what she read as real contrition had left her stupidly hopeful and illogically wanting to believe they could work things out. But then, that may well have just been the whiskey talking, and if this _were_ to be something real; something honest, she did not want it fueled by a haze of liquor and desperation. He’d said he would come back tomorrow. She had to believe he would.

Loghain had wanted to see her. He would not have come down here if he had not. He could have simply used Cat as an intermediary; he knew Thea would never withhold information from her beloved cousin. No, if he had dragged himself all the way from the capitol to this god forsaken place, it was because he had chosen to. He had chosen to find her. And that knowledge alone was enough to make her head spin, whiskey or no.

With another long sigh, Thea stood up and wandered back behind the bar, opening the cash register with a well placed tap of her fist. She removed the cash drawer, then a false bottom, before withdrawing a small disk of obsidian. It was beautiful in its way: smooth as glass save for the series of old Tevinter runes carved on either side and cast in silverite and set with a clear crystal in the center. It had taken her years to track it down, but she believed it held the answers to one of the greatest historical and archaeological questions of the last thousand years. Now, she was painfully close to getting that answer, and her ex lover was willing to help her find it.

Thea set the artifact down on the bar, biting her lower lip slightly as she studied it. She needed to find someone who could translate the runes. Dorian Pavus had been her first choice, of course, but he had been at a rare loss, explaining that no one had spoken that particular dialect of Tevene for hundreds of years. Casting her net a little wider, she had finally found someone who might be able to help, but it would mean traveling west to Orlais and the vast expanses of the Western Approach. Convenient, since that is where she would have ended up anyways, but still annoying. She was not exactly looking forward to having to shake sand out of every piece of clothing she owned.

Shrugging aside her minor irritation, she turned back to the sink full of dishes that still required her attention. She had barely reached for the soap when she once again heard the clatter of the door swinging open and felt the brisk chill of winter night air brush against her skin. Half hoping Loghain had come back, she shifted her attention towards the front of the bar. To her disappointment, it was not Loghain, but rather a group of gaunt, almost feverish looking soldiers led by a tall, dark haired man with eyes tinged with the unique shade of dilute crimson that often marked a lyrium addict.

“Sorry boys,” Thea called over her shoulder even as she subtly reached back under the counter for her gun, “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”

“Oh, we’re not looking for a drink, gorgeous,” the tall man leered. He was, apparently, their leader, as the others seemed to hang back in deference to him. They all seemed a bit twitchy; almost as though they were struggling against an unseen restraint.

Thea shrugged, trying not to appear as anxious as she was. “I’m afraid we don’t serve food here. Inn up the street does, though. You might try there.”

“Oh, I suspect we will find what we are looking for right here,” the leader replied, his tone soft and predatory, and his eyes flickered ever so briefly to the obsidian disk on the bar. Thea reached for it, but she was too slow. Two more men darted out of the shadows, pinning her arms back. “I must say I’m surprised,” he shrugged. “I thought for sure you’d pass this little trinket off to Mac Tir. Or does your lover’s quarrel run too deep for that?”

Thea grinned. He was willing to poke at her feelings, which meant he clearly did not know a single useful thing about her. “If you thought I would do a damn thing to help Loghain Mac Tir, you are sadly mistaken. You want the stupid disk? Take it. Maybe you will have better luck translating it than I did.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he shook his head, dark eyes gleefully cruel. “Come on now, sweetie, you honestly expect me to believe you’ve made no progress on it? The brilliant Theadosia Trevelyan?”

“Believe whatever you like,” Thea snorted derisively. “Besides, I am guessing you are working for the venatori, aren’t you?” Her foe seemed surprised at her statement, which simply served to confirm it for her. “In that case, you ought to have plenty of underlings who can translate it for you.”

“Ah, but see, that’s the problem,” the man said, shrugging as he casually reached for the fireplace poker and prodded the smoldering logs. “See, my master is on a bit of a time crunch here. This Urn or whatever it is? It’s part of a much bigger plan he’s got. So we need to find it now, or the whole thing goes south in a big way. Which is why,” he stepped closer, still wielding the now glowing hot fireplace poker and placing it dangerously close to her face, “We will be needing that translation now.”

_This is it. This is how I die._ Thea looked up at him, schooling her expression into a mix of defiance and boredom. “Think, you loon,” she said, her tone flat. “If you have minions who are literally _of Tevene heritage_ and even they cannot help you, in what universe to you think I will have gotten any farther?”

He gave another lazy shrug. “Protest all you like, beautiful, just means we’re gonna have to mar that pretty face of yours before you give us what we want.”

The searing fire poker moved closer to her face, and Thea made a decision. First, she landed a swift kick between her attacker’s legs which at least distracted him for a moment. Then, before the two pinning her arms down had time to react, she let her entire body go limp. They were not expecting that, and the sudden change in her center of gravity threw them off and they released their hold on her. In a single swift movement, Thea grabbed the gun under the counter and aimed it at the first of her two captors, putting a bullet neatly between his eyes. Before she could take aim at the second though, he too dropped to the floor after a loud retort of gunfire. She glanced back in time to see Loghain once again raising his pistol and taking fire at one of the other soldiers. He caught her eye and raised a single brow in question.

“Damned if I know,” she called over her shoulder to his unspoken question. “Maybe fight first, ask later?”

“As you will, Theadosia,” he replied, landing another clean shot through the heart of a soldier. Thea managed to scramble out from behind the bar, frantically searching for where the artifact had landed. She finally spotted it over by the fireplace. Unfortunately, so had the leader of the venatori group, and he seemed to have more or less recovered from the swift kick to the groin she had delivered. He darted over towards the fire and reached a greedy hand to the disk, only to promptly drop the now scalding hot disk again with a roar of pain. Taking advantage of his stupidity, Thea grabbed a damp dishtowel from the nearby table and used it to shield her own hand as she grabbed the disk.

The sounds of gunfire were still echoing around her and, to her horror, she saw too many shattered bottles of liquor and too many tipped over candles. “Loghain!” She shouted above the din, “We have to get out of here! This place is going to go up like a Satinalia tree any minute.”

He didn’t reply, instead simply delivering a powerful kick to the chest of a venatori agent who was reluctant to give up, then grabbing Thea by the hand and dragging her outside. It was not a moment too soon, either: they had barely cleared the building when there was a sudden _whoosh_ behind them, and the entire bar went up in flames. Thea stared at the conflagration, unwilling or perhaps unable to process what she was seeing.

“Theadosia? Theadosia.” She was vaguely aware of Loghain speaking her name, concern creeping into his tone as he took her by the shoulder and shook her gently. “Theadosia? Are you alright?”

She nodded slowly. “I am… I am not hurt, no. What in the void are you doing here, though?”

“I saw them heading in your direction after I left,” he explained. “And yes, I know you could handle it on your own, but-”

“It is alright, Loghain,” Thea interrupted quietly. “I… I appreciate it.”

They stared at the rising flames. “Do you think they are all dead?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. Their leader was a tough one. I suspect he scampered off to lick his wounds and regroup with whoever their ‘master’ is. In any case,” she sighed, “It is not the end of the world. Insurance will cover most of my losses. And,” she held out her hand, which still held the artifact wrapped in the grimy dishcloth, “I still have this. In the meantime, I should probably go try and get some rest. Looks like you are stuck with me, Loghain. At least until we find the damn Urn.”

He nodded slowly. “I suppose I am. Theadosia? Do you really think it is wise to stay by yourself tonight?”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Probably not,” she finally conceded. “I can probably find a couch to crash on, though.” To her surprise, she could swear a faint shadow of disappointment crossed his face. “Although,” she amended slowly, “It is very late. And I am going to take a wild guess that you will not be able to sleep unless you know I am safe.”

“Good guess,” he retorted dryly, but he did not correct her.

Thea knew it was a bad idea. She knew it was a terrible idea. And yet she still opened her mouth. “Well… does your room at the inn have a couch? I suppose I can sleep there as well as anywhere else.”

“It does, but I would never do that to you,” Loghain replied, tossing his head in the general direction of Redcliffe’s one and only place of lodging. “I will sleep on the couch; you may have the bed.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “Loghain, you may have forgotten this little detail, but I am considerably shorter than you. While I can more or less comfortably pass a night on a sofa, you will wake up with any number of aches and pains and complaints, and we need to catch a flight to Orlais as soon as we can. While I appreciate the misguided chivalry, I promise, I will be fine.”

He gave a brief huff of exasperation, but did not argue with her further. When they reached the inn, he led her up two flights of stairs and unlocked the door to his room. Thea tossed the artifact in a desk drawer, then traipsed into the bathroom. “I am going to try and wash the smoke and dirt and maker-knows what else from my person,” she announced. “If you have something I can borrow that will make a passable nightshirt I would be grateful, otherwise I will simply have to sleep naked and have you avert your eyes.”

In response, the bathroom door opened a crack and he passed her a soft, well-worn button up shirt that would be comfortably big on her and would do for sleeping. Honestly, she was a bit surprised: she had half-expected him to press for the latter option. But of course he hadn’t: he was better than that. He knew she had been drinking, then through a significant trauma, and was still uncertain about his intentions.

Though that hardly meant she was not slightly disappointed.

After she showered, she slipped the shirt on over her undergarments and stepped carefully back into the room. Loghain was reading a book in bed, but he set it aside long enough to point out the spare pillows and blankets he had tracked down for her. Thea gave a brief nod of appreciation, then curled up on the couch, her exhaustion and the whiskey finally catching up to her. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when she felt him pull the blankets up over her, tucking her in before he pressed a brief, almost hesitant kiss against her temple.

“Goodnight, Theadosia.”


	3. Chapter 3

He had, thankfully, woken up before her. After everything the poor woman had been through yesterday, Loghain was not going to begrudge her a few extra hours of sleep. It had been torture, of course, lying in bed only a few feet away from her and unable to stop his mind from playing out every scenario in which she might be there with him, but he would never do that to her. No: _he_ had fucked up. Which meant that if he was ever to have a prayer of a chance at making things right, he needed to let her make the choice he had taken from her three years ago.

Theadosia was, if possible, even more heartbreakingly beautiful than she had been when she had walked out of his office with tears staining her cheeks and equal measures of rage and pain in her eyes. She’d slammed the door behind her, and they had not spoken since. A sudden request for a sabbatical had been submitted and approved, and Theadosia had disappeared. Loghain had still clung to memories of her sharp intelligence, sarcastic wit, and her fierce love just as much as he had the memories of the storm in her eyes or the auburn fall of her hair, and he had missed every single part of her.

Now, she was sleeping peacefully, curled up on the couch with the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and casting the long waves of her hair in a burnished glow. No, there was certainly no reason to wake her yet. Maker only knew what kind of chance either of them would have for real sleep in the following days. Instead, he got dressed as quietly as he could and slipped out of the room and downstairs to the lobby. He placed a few phone calls then, after a brief detour to the diner up the street, made his way back up to the room. By the time he got there, Theadosia was sitting up on the couch with her legs tucked neatly beneath her, and she was rubbing the last drifts of sleep from her eyes.

“You should not have let me sleep in so late,” she stated, but there was no accusation in her tone.

Loghain simply shrugged. “You clearly needed it,” he pointed out. “Here,” he passed her one of the paper cups from the diner, and she accepted it with a small hum of pleased surprise. She took a careful sip and a brief, beautiful smile lit up her features.

“I cannot believe you remember how I take my coffee.”

“Of course I do, Theadosia.” _I remember a void of a lot more than that._ “Besides, I figured you could use it. I made some calls and got us on the noon flight to Orlais.”

“Glad to see you have resigned yourself to my presence,” she replied, a half smile tilting at her lips as she stood and stretched, the hem of his shirt riding dangerously high up the ivory lines of her hips. “Smart, too: I have a connection in Griffon Wing, the main outpost in the Approach. She thinks she knows someone who might be able to help us.”

Loghain shook his head slightly. “Of course you do. And will this person know anything about that grimy dishtowel you’ve been clutching to your chest like a bedraggled kitten?”

Theadosia shot him a withering glance, but she also retrieved the object in question from where she had tucked it beneath her pillow. “I was going to tell you about it. Eventually. After my coffee.”

“Then it is a good thing I thought ahead, isn’t it?” Loghain took a seat beside her on the couch. _She still wears the lavender perfume_. He took a deep breath, then refocused his thoughts. “So what exactly is it, and why is it so important?”

He watched as she carefully unfolded the towel, revealing a smooth obsidian disk roughly the size of his palm, etched with silverite runes and set with a clear, brilliant crystal in the center. “You recognize, I am sure, a seeking stone. I have a very good idea of what temple this one was made for, which in turn would tell us where we need to look for the Urn. To be honest, I suspect the thieves simply utilized an ancient Tevinter set-up for their own purposes. This stone and its corresponding temple are ancient, even more so than the Urn. Either way, the disk is currently useless to us. I cannot read this particular dialect of ancient Tevene, and neither can my go-to source.”

“I’m sure that irritated Dorian to no end,” Loghain observed. The classics professor at the University of Denerim was unquestionably brilliant, and ever so slightly vain about it. Being stumped would have been a not insignificant annoyance.

Theadosia laughed quietly. “A bit,” she admitted. “In any case, it means we need to find someone who _can_ read the runes, which is easier said than done. The silver lining here is that, apparently, the venatori are apparently no closer to a translation than we are. Or at least, if they are, they are keeping that information remarkably close to the vest.”

“That is something, at least,” Loghain replied, studying the disk carefully. He had seen seeking stones before, but none quite this ancient. They were a map of sorts, and he had always had a liking for old maps. Still, this particular stone was utterly foreign to him. He shook his head as he handed it back to Theadosia, who wrapped it back up in the dishtowel. “May as well make it relatively inconspicuous,” she explained. “Or at least, until someone begins to question why I am toting around a filthy rag. I will pick something else up when I go back to my apartment to pack. Which,” she glanced at the clock, “I should probably go do if we are going to catch that flight. Think you can manage on your own for a bit while I go toss some things in a suitcase?”

He hesitated, and of course she seemed to guess his concerns. She gave a brief huff of exasperation, but her expression was surprisingly sympathetic as she stepped closer to him. “Loghain,” she spoke softly, leaning down and pressing a feather light kiss to his cheek, “I will come back. I promise. And here,” she reached into her bag, “Since I know my promises are worth about as much as a fool’s sovereign, take the artifact. Consider it insurance.”

“Theadosia, believe it or not, I still trust you,” Loghain retorted, and he was rewarded with one of Theadosia’s rare, brilliant smiles and a small breath of laughter.

“Oh, well now I _certainly_ question your judgement,” she teased. “Either way, I suspect that thing will be safer with you for the time being. Hang on to it, and we will meet at the airport. Well,” she rolled her eyes, “Such as it is.”

A slight smile flickered over his lips before he could stop himself. “Three years living in the middle of nowhere, and you are still a city girl at heart, aren’t you?’

Theadosia shrugged, raising her brows in a show of indifference. “You know I always loved my house in the country, Loghain, but there is a world of difference between that and setting up shop in the ass end of Thedas. I miss real coffee, and good martinis, and I miss the sea.” Her voice had trailed off towards wistful at the end, and Loghain felt a twinge of guilt in his heart.

“You did not have to stay here, you know,” he pointed out quietly as her hand reached for the doorknob, and she hesitated at his words. Finally she looked back at him, and her answering smile was sad.

“Didn’t I, though?”

* * *

Theadosia was certainly right in her assessment of the Redcliffe Airport. In fact, Loghain nearly passed it by while looking for it, so small and makeshift did it appear. There was a single waiting room and ticket counter, and a dilapidated vending machine offered food products of questionable quality and even more uncertain vintage. Fortunately, the place itself looked to be more or less in working order. He had certainly flown in worse trying to get to remote areas of Thedas.

She arrived shortly after he did, dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a linen shirt in a pale shade of ivory with a distracting number of buttons undone in the front. Her hair had once again been braided back and pinned up into a knot, which made him slightly sad: she had once almost always worn it down, and it occurred to him that she had done it simply because he had once told her he loved it that way. Still, even in the dingy surroundings of the airport and the slight air of weariness in her expression, she was beautiful.

And he loved her.

Loghain shook his head, trying to chase away the words he knew he could not say. “Here,” he offered, reaching a hand out for her bag, “Let me take that. If I remember correctly, the overhead bins were ‘designed for mutant giraffe hybrids’ and not for ‘normal people.’”

Theadosia laughed, the sound making his heart leap. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she retorted, but she handed him her bag anyways as they made their way onto the tarmac and up the stairs to the plane. “Besides, this way you have an excuse to do something chivalrous without me rolling my eyes.”

“True,” he agreed, a small smile flitting briefly over his face before he could stop himself. They found their seats, and he let her take the one by the window. When they had settled in and finally taken off, she pulled a stack of papers covered in densely packed scrawl from her purse and began studying them intently, eyes darting rapidly over the words as her brow furrowed ever so slightly in the endearing way it did when she was concentrating. He was reluctant to disturb her, but he had to ask the question they were both avoiding.

“So… are we going to discuss the bronto in the room?”

Theadosia looked up from her notes, raising a single brow in his direction. “On a small plane in a confined space where maker only knows who will be eavesdropping and neither of us has the ability to step away if we need to? I would rather not.”

Loghain sighed. “Fair point,” he conceded.

Theadosia took a deep breath, then gently set her hand over his. “Yes, Loghain. I would be willing to revisit the conversation we had three years ago, but now may not be the best time. I am dreadfully distracted and I am afraid I did not sleep terribly well, though I certainly appreciated the extra hour or so you gave me.”

“I told you that you should have taken the bed,” he pointed out, but she merely turned her gaze away, her cheeks turning ever so slightly pink.

“That was not the problem” she muttered. “I just… I had a lot on my mind, with this mess we’re in and then having you… well, having you in the bed so close to me and not being there with you. It was more difficult that I thought it would be.” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, and he took the chance of threading his fingers with hers where she had placed her hand over his. “It just brought up a lot of memories, Loghain,” she finally said. “And a lot of feelings I am not certain I know what to do with.”

“Well,” he replied, gently taking her notes from her and placing them back in her bag, “I suspect you should not make any decisions without some more rest. It is a long flight to Griffon Wing. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Theadosia gave him a small smile. “Maybe you are right.” She reached a slender hand up to stifle a yawn. “Alright, you are _definitely_ right,” she conceded. Shifting slightly in her seat, she leaned next to him and nestled her head against his shoulder. “Promise you will wake me before we get there?”

Loghain nodded, letting his own head settle against hers, their hands still intertwined.

“I promise.”

* * *

There was an odd sort of luck favoring them: while much of Ferelden was still in the grip of snow and ice, The Western Approach was at its least unforgiving during the winter months. In fact, the air when they stepped off the plane was surprisingly mild and pleasant, and Loghain quickly shed his leather jacket in favor of his shirtsleeves. Theadosia slipped her sweater off over her head before donning a broad brimmed sunhat and sunglasses, as she scanned the handful of people milling about the desert city’s terminal. Finally, she spotted whoever she was looking for, a small half smile lilting on her face.

Loghain looked in the direction she was facing and saw the woman he had to assume was their contact. She was a bit taller than Thea, and even in the brilliant sun of the desert she was wearing a sharply tailored black pantsuit that set off the raven hue of her hair and teal eyes. Lips stained a brilliant shade of ruby quirked up in a smile of their own as they approached. “Well well, look who it is. Finally decided to try your hand at practical history, huh Thea?”

Theadosia gave a small shrug before embracing their contact. “What can I say, Venna? Cat roped me into it, and you know I cannot say no to her. And you know Loghain Mac Tir, I presume?”

Ravenna Hawke turned to face him, a sparkle of something mischievous but not malicious lighting up her gaze. “Oh yes, I have heard quite a bit about _you_ , Professor. I admit, I am more than a little surprised to see you in one piece after she’d gotten to you, but not displeased.”

Theadosia raised her brows in a picture of innocence. “Ven, you wound me. In any case,” she gestured to her with a graceful hand, “Loghain, this is Ravenna Hawke, my… what are we, again?”

Ven gave a short bark of laughter. “Good question. We puzzled it out, once. We’re… I think first cousins once removed, on our mother’s sides?”

“Sure,” Theadosia agreed. “In any case, not only is Ven my kin, she is one of the best treasure hunters in the world. If anyone will be able to help us with our current project, it will be her.”

“Damn right it is,” Ven shot them a grin, then escorted them to her car. “Not going to lie, Thea, you’ve got me curious. This has to be big, especially if you were willing to work with your ex.”

“Theadosia has always been the better person,” Loghain interjected quietly. “She would not put her own entirely justified anger ahead of the good of her country.”

To his surprise, Ven studied him with a look of almost amused sympathy on her face. “Of course,” she noted. “I am sure that is the _only_ reason she is practically glowing right at the moment.”

“I had a very nice nap on the plane,” Theadosia replied evenly, but there was a warning in her tone that Ven obviously picked up on. She simply gave her cousin a small, knowing smile, then expertly wove her way into the melee of foot and vehicle traffic milling around the streets of Griffon Wing.

“The good news,” she announced as they pulled into the driveway of a blindingly white house in the heart of the city, “Is that I _did_ in fact find someone who will almost certainly be able to help you. She is, well, a bit eccentric, but she is also one of the most brilliant women I know. Her knowledge base is a bit scattered and eclectic, but apparently she once needed to reference classical Tevene runes for a project she was working on. So of course she ended up learning the entire runic system. That’s just the way she is: once she starts something, she goes at it full bore until she has exhausted it.”

“And the odds that she will be able to translate this particular dialect?” Loghain asked skeptically, offering Theadosia a hand to help her out of the car and trying to ignore the pointed look Ravenna shot in their direction.

“Pretty damn good,” she replied, taking Theadosia’s bag and leading them upstairs. “Here, this will be your room,” she announced, setting the luggage in a clean, airy room with large windows that looked out over the city. “You can flip a coin for who gets the bed. Or not,” she shrugged, barely suppressing another grin. “Unfortunately, my friend is not available today. She is out in the field trying to collect some rare plant ingredients for some project or another, but she promised to meet with you tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, might I suggest you get out and explore the city a bit?”

“Not a terrible idea,” Theadosia agreed, kicking off the heels she had worn on the flight and digging around in her suitcase for a pair of flats. “I have never been out this way. Have you, Loghain?”

“Not for some years,” he shook his head. “It would not hurt to get a layout of the city again, in any case.”

Theadosia laughed softly. “Practical as ever,” she noted. “Ven, you need anything from the marketplace, since we will be wandering anyways?”

“I do not think so,” she shook her head. “You two go on.” With a final small smile, she sauntered out of the room, and he and Theadosia headed out into the dry, balmy heat of the desert city. Loghain hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took her hand in his. To his mild surprise, she accepted the gesture, lacing her fingers easily with his as they walked.

“You know I am not letting you sleep on the sofa for this entire trip,” he pointed out, and she laughed.

“That an invitation?” She asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, and he gave a brief huff of exasperation.

“No, merely my attempt at being somewhat thoughtful,” he retorted. “I remember how your back gets when you do not sleep on a proper mattress.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, and he could swear there was a trace of disappointment in the sound.

He squeezed her hand gently. “Theadosia,” he spoke quietly, “It is not like that. I simply… I do not want to…”

“Would it be so awful, Loghain?” She asked, keeping her voice low, her attention ostensibly on the fresh plums at a market stand, but the way she spoke his name sent a jolt through his entire body. “Sharing a bed with me again? I doubt I have started snoring in the intervening years since the last night we spent together.”

“Theadosia, ‘awful’ is about as far from accurate as you can get. I have spent the last three years wishing you were still there beside me; wishing every damn day I was waking up next to you” he replied, almost tripping over the words he had refused to acknowledge this entire time. “But I am also not so stupid as to think I was not the one who fucked up.”

Her lips quirked up in the familiar half-smile. “You did,” she acknowledged. “You could have come after me, you know.”

“I was not sure you wanted me to.”

She sighed, then gave a small shrug. “Every damn day,” she whispered, then shook her head as if trying to chase away an intrusive thought, but her hand was still in his and she made no effort to move away. “It figures it would take a potential world ending event to get us talking again, doesn’t it?”

He gave a small, dry chuckle. “Seems about right. We never did do things halfway, did we?”

“No we did not.” Suddenly, she paused, frowning slightly. “Do you hear that?”

Loghain looked in the direction she had turned, and in the distance he could see a cloud of dust being raised and could hear the rapidly growing din of angry voices. “We need to get out of here.” He kept his voice low and calm, but of course she could sense the unspoken urgency there. She nodded, allowing him to guide her towards a side street and away from the marketplace.

From the edges of his field of vision he could see black robed figures emerging from the crowd, slowly but steadily making their way towards his and Theadosia’s current location. He was about to speak up to warn her when suddenly he was nearly knocked off his feet by someone who had managed to approach from behind them. Loghain caught himself, but the loss of balance was enough to give their unknown assailants the opportunity they needed to jerk Theadosia away from him. He desperately reached out for her as he felt her hand slip away, a muffled cry the only sound she uttered as she was dragged into the crowd.

He threw an elbow backwards towards the figure who had shoved him, not bothering to look back to see how well the blow had connected. Instead, he pushed his way into the irritated melee of shoppers and merchants. Pulling himself up onto the edge of a market stall and ignoring the protests of the book merchant he was inconveniencing, Loghain scanned the market, trying to spot the familiar flash of auburn hair.

“ _Theadosia!_ ” He called out, but of course there was no answer, his voice drowned out by the chaos of the market. Then, at the edges where the stalls were sparse, he spotted her being shoved unceremoniously into a drab green truck. Loghain jumped down and began once again pushing his way towards the vehicle. Another black-robed figure seemed to ooze out of the crowd and managed to land a nasty jab to his jaw, but there were simply too many people for the attacker to do much. A swift strike to his throat and a kick to his knee and he was down. He would not be for long, however, so Loghain did not linger to finish what he started.

He had nearly reached the spot he thought he had seen Theadosia when the mass of people suddenly parted and a chorus of shrieks went up in the air. There, facing him, was a particularly tall man wearing the same black robes as his fellows and wielding a wicked looking sword in a series of taunting arcs and swings.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Loghain growled. “I do not have time for this.” With a single fluid movement, he drew his gun and shot a single bullet into the swordsman’s shoulder. It would not kill him, but it would keep him from swinging the ridiculous weapon at Loghain as he ran past him. He reached the spot where the truck had been, but it had disappeared. Racing around the unnervingly quiet buildings at the edge of the market, he finally caught sight of a drab green truck as it sped out of the city.

Until it exploded.


	4. Chapter 4

Thea’s head _hurt_.

Actually, now that she thought of it, most of her hurt. Including her damn pride, which was probably the most wounded thing of all. How could she have possible allowed herself to be captured? She had lived alone in the backwaters of Ferelden for three damn years without a single incident, but one bad day at the market and she had found herself bound and trussed like a nug at the slaughterhouse. It was egregiously irritating, thought not cause for panic.

Yet.

Thea did a brief assessment of her current situation. For the moment, she was alone. Her mouth was gagged, but she had not been blindfolded, which she was silently and utterly grateful for. She seemed to be in some sort of field tent, although a surprisingly well appointed one, and she was clearly still in the desert: sand was visible beneath lush Orlesian rugs, and in the distance she could hear the faint, chilling cries of a phoenix. Night had fallen outside, and the tent was lit only by a series of lanterns and oil lamps. Wherever her captors had brought her, it was still within the boundaries of the Western Approach. With any luck, they would not be too far from Griffon Wing, but without access to the stars to guide her, she honestly could not say.

Though her head was aching, there was none of the warm stickiness she would have associated with blood, so that was a good sign. She had been tied against a thick pole in the middle of the tent, her legs crossed haphazardly beneath her. They had of course fallen asleep from the combination of the odd position and the lack of movement, and Thea began slowly tensing and releasing the muscles to try and wake them up as best she could. Her sides ached, but she was breathing easily and there were no sharp pains, so it did not seem as if any of her ribs had been broken.

She tested the bonds of rope that bound her to the tent pole, but it was no use. Whoever had tied her up had done a thorough job of it, much to her annoyance. Thea glanced around for something, anything, that she may be able to use to loosen or fray the robes that were currently chafing at her wrists, but the best thing she could see was a table knife that was probably dull and, even if it was not, was too far away to be of any use to her.

Still, she was alive. That was something. She had to assume that, whatever the venatori had needed from her in Redcliffe, they still needed, and desperately. Otherwise, they would have simply killed her in the marketplace, or done so in the middle of the desert where the wild dogs and quillbacks would have easily consumed her body and destroyed any evidence of her remains. As long as they still needed her alive, Thea had room to negotiate.

Not exactly her strong point, but she could manage.

She took a deep breath, trying to press the pain in her skull away and only partially succeeding. No, it was not time to panic yet, but that did not mean she was anywhere close to safe. These lunatics had already proven they were willing to go to all sorts of unpleasant ends in order to get what they wanted, and Thea knew there was still a very real chance she would be in for a great deal of pain before she was either rescued or she outlived her usefulness. Best to save her energy, and try to prepare herself as best she could.

Still, she could not keep herself from worrying. Not about herself; she had things more or less under control, or at least as much as she could given the circumstances. Rather, she prayed to whatever god was listening that Loghain had made it out of the market in one piece. He was strong, and a damned good fighter, but the venatori had gotten the drop on them. Even Thea had been surprised, and she was usually much better about keeping aware of her surroundings. Then again, she thought wryly, she had been particularly distracted that afternoon.

_Maker but I still love him. Desperately._

Thea took another deep breath, trying not to think about the worst case scenarios that were trying to crowd her mind. The venatori had clearly wanted her, not him. With any luck, that meant that once they had abducted her they would have been more interested in an expedited escape rather than trying to silence witnesses. They could not, after all, simply slaughter the entire market. There was always the chance they would have left a few soldiers behind to do clean up, but Loghain could handle himself against a few ill-trained and disorganized madmen. He would be alright. He had to be.

He would come for her. She knew he would. And if absolutely nothing else, Ravenna would know if Thea did not show up back at the house in time for their appointment tomorrow. And if Ven thought Thea had been taken, she would go to not only her own varied and eclectic contacts but to Cat and Nathaniel, who would in turn go to Anora. Void, the ventatori had better _pray_ Loghain got to her first: otherwise, there was a very real chance they would have the entire weight of the Fereldan army brought to bear on them.

Despite herself, Thea could not help the irrational, impossible hope in her heart that Loghain _would_ be the one to come for her. It was silly, of course: expecting him to simply show up by himself and rescue her from Maker only knew how many venatori agents and their attending goons. That, and there was the inevitable indignity of him finding her like this, tied up and relatively helpless. A small smile crept over her lips.

_Then again … it is not like it would be the first time._

The thought prompted far more pleasant memories to ease the pain in her head and the worry in her heart. When she was him again, because she would be damned if she was going to finally be reunited with Loghain Mac Tir only to get herself killed in the middle of the maker-forsaken desert, they were going to have a very long talk. After the past twenty-four hours, Thea more than ever did not believe for one moment that he had shown up at her bar simply because Cataline had asked nicely.

Three years. Three long, painful years they had been apart, and she was still hopelessly in love with him. All he’d had to do was walk in the front door and all the feelings she had kept neatly locked away had rioted to the surface and she had fallen just as hard for him as she had the day she had first met him. It was damned irritating, and even more annoying was that she found herself believing he still cared for her, too. That he may want to try again.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about what was, or what might be. Now was the time to try and come up with some plan to rescue herself, since Maker only knew how long it would be before anyone came after her. Cutting her bonds was clearly out. Thea shifted her hands down along the pole, testing how far down it went into the sand. Too far; besides, going that route was just as like to bring the entire tent crashing down on her head, and that would rather defeat the point of an attempt at subtle escape. Which brought her back around to the dubious hope of negotiating with her captors. With luck, they would send in someone easy to flatter or manipulate.

“Well well, look who’s finally decided to rise and shine?”

Thea turned her head slightly to face the man who had just entered the tent. His voice set her teeth on edge, but also gave her a grim sense of satisfaction.

_Perfect_.

The man who had led the attack on her bar sauntered in, a predatory grin on his face and the familiar sheen of lyrium addiction in his eyes. Thea adjusted her expression: not too fearful, or he would consider her a flight risk, but not defiant either. That had not worked the first time, and she doubted it would serve her any better now that she was clearly at a disadvantage. The man bent down and removed the gag from her mouth, and she settled on a look of muted curiosity, but biting her lower lip slightly as though anxious. This seemed to please him, and Thea resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Seems you’re not so feisty without your boyfriend here to protect you, are you?”

Thea narrowed her eyes as if the very mention of Loghain was an irritant. “He is _not_ my boyfriend,” she spat. “Clearly he was willing enough to abandon me at the first sight of trouble, so I really do not see how I am much worse off in your custody than his.”

“Really now? Well, then maybe you’ll be amenable to a more civil conversation,” he suggested.

“Perhaps,” Thea replied, blinking slowly. “Although I find myself at a bit of a disadvantage. You clearly know who I am, but I do not believe we have been introduced.”

“Ah, well pardon my manners, but I’m sure you understand such niceties are often lost amongst the boys and me,” her captor grinned. “The name’s Samson. Raleigh Samson, but the surname’ll do fine. I’m Corypheus’s general and right hand man, so never mind what any of the wench’s round the camp say.”

_Ah. Touchy subject?_ “I assumed you had to be important,” she pointed out. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, they would not have sent just anyone after me. I can only assume that… Corypheus? Trusts you. A great deal, apparently.”

“Aye, that he does,” Samson nodded. “Awful hard to find loyal help these days, you know.”

“Oh, I assure you,” Thea sighed, casting her face wistful. “I know. It is so impossibly hard to find people you can depend on. That you can trust.” She looked up at Samson through lowered lashes, allowing just a hint of vulnerability to shine through her reluctant exterior. Samson seemed to consider her, an incongruous look of thoughtfulness on his sallow features. Finally, he tossed a small, paper-wrapped bundle towards her.

“Here. I’ll slip that rope off you, you put that on, and we’ll have a drink, like civilized folk, right?”

Thea nodded, offering him a small, congenial smile. Samson knelt down and flicked open a pocket knife, neatly slicing the ropes, and she resisted the urge to shudder at the implicit sharpness of the blade. She reached for the paper wrapped parcel and carefully removed the twine and paper, and immediately had to suppress her gag reflex.

It was a silky, impractical nightgown, white as snow. Thea _hated_ wearing white. Ivory was fine, as was ecru, champagne, eggshell, alabaster, or cream, but pure white was just so… _pure_. And it looked horrible with her complexion. Worse than the color, though, were the sheer dimensions of the thing: cut too low in the bodice and too tight at the waist, too damn long, and with too much cheap lace trim that was inevitably going to itch like mad. Any woman who willingly wore this to bed was a masochist of the highest order, and suddenly Thea desperately hoped she managed to rescue herself _before_ Loghain ever saw her like this.

Samson gestured to a screened off area and Thea stepped behind it, uncomfortably aware of how he would be able to see her silhouette behind the screen, outlined by the light of the lamps and candles. The alternative was trying to fight her way out, however, with no weapon and absolutely no way to survive in the desert. Until she knew where she was and how far she was from civilization, she could not take that risk. She was right, though: the damn thing itched like the void. Inhaling deeply, she smoothed the disgust from her expression and let it settle back into one of wary curiosity.

When she emerged from behind the screen, Samson gave her a long appraising glance, and the open hunger in his eyes nearly sent her screaming from the tent, desert be damned. If he thought she would allow him to set a single finger on her he was sorely mistaken: she would die first. Fortunately, for the moment he seemed intent on continuing the illusion of civility, inviting her to take a seat across from him at the table and pouring her a glass of something that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be whiskey. Even better. Had he offered her wine, she would have been in a great deal more trouble, but whiskey she could handle.

“Now, you see,” she offered him a lilting smile, “Had you approached me like this the first time, I may have been much more inclined to give you what you want. Especially after the insult I had just been paid by my ex.”

Samson gave her a mock bow of apology. “A thousand apologies, Miss Trevelyan, but you have a reputation. One that, lucky for you, makes you much more valuable to us alive than dead.”

“And thank the Maker for that,” she said, throwing back her drink in a single swallow and hoping she was hitting the appropriate amount of fervor in her tone. Not wanting to be outdone apparently, Samson also threw back a shot before pouring another for them both. Thea downed that one just as quickly, and was pleased to see he did the same, pouring yet again as she spoke. “Although, I admit, I worry about the extent of my usefulness. You said you need help translating the runes, which I will probably be able to puzzle out with some time and the right references, but beyond that, what else could you possibly need me for?”

“Oh don’t you worry gorgeous,” Samson drawled, once again raking his gaze up and down the length of her body, which was far more exposed than Thea would have liked given the circumstances. “I’m sure we can think of some reason to keep you around. ‘Sides, you’re a smart woman: wouldn’t you rather be on the winning side?”

Thea threw back the third shot, waiting patiently for Samson to follow suit and pour again. His speech was already beginning to slur, thankfully, whereas she was still perfectly fine. “Of course,” she replied. “Do you really think the venatori will be able to pull it off, though?”

“Ain’t just the venatori,” Samson confided with a conspiratorial grin. “You ever wonder where all the templars that’ve been abandoning their posts have gone?”

“I thought they had simply left,” Thea replied, head tilted just slightly to the side in innocent inquiry. “After all, the chantry has given them little enough reason to remain loyal, especially recently.” That much, at least, was true. The martial arm of the chantry was kept on a tight, debilitating leash known as lyrium, and the actions of some bad agents had begun to reflect badly on the order as a whole. The institution was hurtling towards a breaking point, but Thea had not heard any rumors yet as towards a genuine split.

“Exactly,” Samson nodded unsteadily, the whiskey splashing over the edge of the glasses as he poured. “Templars have been abused and manipulated by the chantry for time immemorial, and some of us have finally started to wake up. Only now do we see the true power that the chantry tried so hard to leash, and what potential we have under the new order. Real power, you see, and an opportunity to live and die at our best rather than at the beck and call of a bunch of old women in ugly frocks.”

Thea sipped her drink, acting as though she were slowing down, but of course Samson was far enough gone that he really _did_ toss his back, pouring another without bothering to wait for her. “But I don’t understand,” she said slowly, slurring her words slightly for effect. “What do you need the urn for? Without the full strength of the templars, the chantry would be weak.”

“No, no,” Samson shook his head vigorously. “Not just the chantry, sweetness. We want it all. Sticking it up the chantry’s ass is just a bonus. But see, the urn’s got healing powers, right? Never mind it being a religious icon or what have you, that’s all just rubbish we can use to awe the masses. But if the ashes can heal, we’ll be unstoppable. It’ll stop the spread of the red.”

Despite the fact that Samson was already wobbling and still pouring another drink for them both, Thea felt the first real thrill of fear in her heart. “The red?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the red. Ya know, the red lyrium? Stuff is expo- exper- way more powerful than the standard blue shit the chantry passes out like juice canteens. But it’s contaminated, see? It poisons us, slowly but surely. All the strength and speed in the world isn’t worth shit if you’re puking your guts out and shaking like a leaf by the end of it. The master, he’s got some sort of way to keep the worst of it at bay, but it’s not a permanent fix. But with a single grain of ash mixed in with a batch of the red? We would be cured, and we would be unstoppable.”

“So you believe the legends?” Thea pressed. “That the urn really does have healing powers?”

Samson shrugged, his previously leering gaze now unfocused and bleary, but still he drank. “Might as well,” he muttered. “If it’s all a lie, at least we go out fighting at our best instead of for the chantry. At least we get to die on our own terms, rather than as a gibbering idiot in some dreary hole when we’re no longer useful to them. Better that fate, than…” But whatever else he intended to say was lost in a jumble of slurred syllables and broken consonants. Samson’s head hit the table with a dull _thud_ , and Thea held her breath for a moment, waiting to see if he was truly out. When he gave a loud snore, she exhaled quietly, then stood up and began silently but frantically searching the tent for supplies, or at least for a waterskin.

This was bad. No, it had gone well beyond bad: this was a nightmare. Bad would have been the simple fact there was an alarmingly large contingent of templars that had gone rogue in addition to the venatori threat. Worse was they were apparently hopped up on some sort of corrupted lyrium, the only silver lining of which was that it was killing them more quickly than the standard stuff did. But Samson, by way of Corypheus, apparently believed the stories: the ashes of the holy prophet Andraste rested in the holy urn they were both racing to find, and they had some sort of healing properties that could counteract the poison of the tainted lyrium. There was still the chance that it was all just a myth, but at this point she was unwilling to take chances. She had to get the void out of there, find Loghain, and then find the urn before the venatori forces did.

“Going somewhere, Theadosia?”

Thea spun around, nearly tumbling over the chair in her haste. She recognized the speaker, though that did nothing to mitigate her surprise. “Calpernia?” She peered at the new arrival, briefly questioning whether the whiskey had been stronger than she thought. “Cal, what in the void are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Her former friend and rival shrugged. “Going after one of the greatest archaeological finds in history.”

Thea shook her head, frowning. “Bullshit, Cal. These people are lunatics, and you were always driven, ambitious even, but you were smart.”

“You of all people ought to understand why I must do this, Thea,” Calpernia replied, her gaze steady. “The questionable nature of their methods aside, for the first time in centuries my homeland has a chance of rising from the ashes; of becoming something greater than what we have been reduced to by years of infighting and war with the Qunari. Even if the ashes are nothing more than the dusty remains of a martyr, do you have any idea how powerful that symbol is? What it would mean back in the hands of the Imperium?”

“You’re insane,” Thea whispered in disbelief. “Cal, you cannot possibly believe any of this.”

“This does not require belief, Thea,” Calpernia shrugged. “It requires acquisition, and it requires power. I am able to provide one, my employer is able to provide the other. And that one,” she glanced skeptically at Samson, who was still snoring loudly with his head on the table, “Was supposed to be the muscle, but I guess he did not account for your particular talent for manipulating weak men. Now, come on.” Calpernia was suddenly flanked by two very large, very imposing looking guards.

“Are you really willing to take my life over this, Calpernia?” Thea asked quietly as she was led out of the tent and into the darkness of the desert, the moonless night lit only by stars.

Calpernia was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke her voice was hushed. “I cannot allow you to impede our progress,” she said, finality in her tone. “But you have always had a talent for getting out of trouble. Besides, there is someone who I am sure is very eager to see you.”

They had reached the edge of what looked to be a hole in the middle of a sandy plateau. At the bottom there was the dim glow of a torch, but to Thea’s horror the venatori were already carting away something in a large crate. Based on the care with which they were handling it, she had the sneaking suspicion they had found exactly what they were looking for.

“I am sorry it came to this, Thea,” Calpernia said, then called down into the pit. “I am terribly sorry, but I will have to appropriate the item you so thoughtfully recovered for us; however, I at least have a consolation prize for you. I certainly hope you are better at catching her than you were holding on to her in the first place.”

And with that, the guards gave Thea a swift shove and she felt herself falling into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Loghain was not certain how he had managed to find his way back to Ravenna’s house, nor how he was able to choke out the few sentences it had taken to tell his host of her kinswoman’s death. Ven had not wasted any time, springing into action and making a series of phone calls that Loghain had not stuck around to listen to. Instead, he had dragged himself upstairs to the room they had been given and sat down on the edge of the bed, his entire body still numb. He reached into his suitcase and pulled out the small, non-descript box he had packed with an unusual show of optimism. Opening it, he withdrew the delicate golden band set with a series of stones in varying shades of blue. Some echoed his eyes; others, hers.

Eyes he would never see again, now. How often had he taken it for granted, that she would always be there? He had wasted too maker damned much time wallowing in his own self pity rather than going after her; begging her to come home, to come back to him. And he would have, too. He would have given her anything just to make things right, and to convince her to give him, to give _them_ , another chance. This had been his opportunity to finally say the things he should have said three years ago.

Theadosia was dead. The love of his life, the woman he had dreamed of spending the rest of his days with, was gone, her life extinguished as quickly and as carelessly as that of a candle flame. He lay back against the bed, holding the ring so tightly in his hand that it buried into his skin, but the pain did not reach him through the haze of his own grief and loss. Everything he had hoped for, the future he had been so carefully constructing in his mind, had gone up in flames along with the truck. He would never be able to tell her he was wrong, or hear her inevitable retort about how she knew that much. He would never be able to kiss her again, or wake up with her safe and warm in his arms, or to lie out under the stars, whispering promises as they lost themselves in each other.

He would never be able to tell her how deeply, desperately, impossibly he loved her.

Loghain would see the job through. He had to: Cataline had asked it of him, had given him the gift of this lifeline to her cousin, and he knew Theadosia would want him to see it to the end. She would not want his own pain and sorrow to overwhelm him such that the whole world suffered for it. So as badly as he wanted to simply give up and either drink himself into a stupor or walk out in front of a bus, Loghain knew he had to find a way to stop the venatori. He had to find a way to make Theadosia’s death mean something.

But not tonight. Tonight, he would mourn the woman he loved, and the future that had been stolen from both of them. He needed to contact Cataline, and Anora, and see what preparations would need to be made. Eventually he would need to see about having her remains returned home to Denerim, where her ashes could be laid to rest over the sea she had loved so much. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself; trying to will himself to get up and do what needed to be done.

Before he could, however, there was a sharp knock on his door. When he did not answer it, Ravenna opened it anyway, a wild look of hope in her eyes. “Get up, Loghain. She’s not dead.”

That did get his attention, and he sat bolt upright, slipping the ring back into its box and then into his pocket, a gesture Ven was tactful enough to pretend she did not notice. “What the void do you mean, she’s not dead? Ravenna, are you absolutely certain? Because if you are not-”

She shook her head emphatically. “I have a contact down at the city coroner’s office,” she explained. “There was only one body pulled from that truck, and it was very clearly a male. Probably about your height, and based on his bone structure probably pretty bulky before the fire got to him. The remains are in quarantine right now because there was something _very_ wrong with them and there is a concern about cross-contamination, but that really does not matter. What matters is that the only other thing they found in the wreckage was an insane amount of ordnance and munitions. No other bodies. Based on the police report, which I also managed to get a peek at, there would not have even been any room in that truck for another human being.”

Loghain stared at her as comprehension dawned on him. “Theadosia was not in that truck,” he whispered. “I had lost sight of it in the crowd, and it was a generic enough vehicle. Perhaps she was loaded into another one, or they had already transferred her out, or…” He shook his head. “They are absolutely _positive_ there were no other remains?”

Ven smiled. “Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Loghain, she is still out there somewhere. The venatori and their handlers obviously need her alive. If they wanted her dead, there are a million other much easier, much quieter ways they could have accomplished it, especially in this city. The fact they went through so much trouble to separate the two of you and then abduct her means she still has value to them, but we have no guarantee about how long that will hold. I say we go ahead as planned and meet with my contact as soon as she gets in tomorrow. I’ve moved up our meeting from noon to first thing after her plane arrives.”

Loghain nodded slowly. “Yes… yes I think that would be for the best. Theadosia is the smartest woman I know, and she is stronger than people give her credit for. If anyone will be able to make it through this, it will be her.”

“Exactly,” Ven agreed, her tone surprisingly kind. “I strongly suspect that if we find the urn, we will find her. And if I may be so bold? When the two of you _are_ reunited, I suggest you have a very long talk. Or perhaps a very short talk punctuated by something very long, slow, and pleasant.”

Loghain almost rolled his eyes at the remark, but found he could not bring himself to do it, because he knew Ven was right: when he found Theadosia, he intended to make sure she knew how he felt. They had both suffered, first for his mistakes and then for his pride, and even if he would have to live with the guilt and shame of what he had done for the rest of his life, there was no reason he could not still try and build a better one. There was no reason he could not see if maybe, just maybe, Theadosia wanted to be a part of that life.

Ven laughed quietly at his silence, then turned to walk back out of the room, an annoyingly knowing smile on her lips.

“Get some sleep, Mac Tir. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a very long day.”

* * *

He hadn’t, of course, or at least not nearly enough. All night he had tossed and turned, his mind warring between cautious hope and the more grim uncertainty of reality. He had been up at dawn, unable and unwilling to make any further attempt at sleep. Instead, he pulled an old, faded map from his suitcase and spread in out over the bed, studying it intently. If Ven’s contact had answers, Loghain was going to want to move as quickly as possible to find the urn and, Maker willing, Theadosia.

There were only a handful of Tevinter temples still standing in the area, at least that he was aware of. Given his areas of expertise, he felt fairly confident in that assessment. Of those, two were currently repurposed by the chantry and were unlikely to be the location of the mosaic he would need to locate the true resting place of the urn. Even if they were, the old tiles depicting the Old Gods would have long since been removed and he would be screwed either way. Two more were too recent: they were Tevene, but from the fading years of the Imperium. Theadosia believed the relic to be older than that, and he trusted her knowledge.

That left one promising candidate: a temple dedicated to Dumat, the dragon of silence. Thought to be the most ancient and powerful of the Old Gods, his temple still held a certain fear and wary respect even amongst the most devout Andrastrians. Despite the chantry’s fanatical push to erase the history of the Imperium in the south, the monstrous bones of the temple remained, and had been left largely untouched save for the inevitable and impartial ravages of time itself. If he were to pick a location to leave a clue for a holy relic, it would have been there. Loghain took a piece of paper and a pencil, sketching out a copy of the map and marking the location of the temple, as well as a scattering of other landmarks just in case.

Interestingly enough, the original map had been a gift from Cataline, from before everything fell apart. She had known of his interest in antique maps and made an effort to find this one for him. Fitting, then, that it should aid him in finding her favorite cousin. He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket, then headed downstairs where Ravenna was already waiting. They exchanged a few brief words, then left the cool sanctuary of her house to brave the already oppressive heat of the desert morning.

“I should warn you,” Ven spoke up as they drove through the crowded streets of Griffon Wing, their progress slowed by street vendors, horses, and the normal vehicle traffic. “My friend is… eccentric, to say the least. Unquestionably brilliant, but a bit flighty. Still, I have no doubt that if anyone can help us, it will be her.”

“I do not care if she is the most eccentric loon on the planet,” Loghain replied dryly, “So long as she can help us find Theadosia.”

Ven gave a small, wry chuckle. “I wouldn’t go _quite_ that far,” she replied as they pulled into the driveway of a small, pleasant cottage surrounding by an unexpected amount of greenery: a verdant oasis amidst the beige of the desert. Ven gave a brisk knock, then let them in. “Merr? You home?”

“Back here, Venna!”

They followed the sound of the cheerfully lilting voice until they came across a diminutive elven woman with wide, curious eyes that were reminiscent of the plants outside. There was a suitcase half unpacked on the floor and haphazard pile of books sprawled over the desk. A chalkboard that took up the better part of a wall was nearly covered with miniscule scribblings, translations, calculations and forumulae. “You brought your friend! I’m terribly sorry about what happened to Thea, Professor Mac Tir. But we’ll find her, I’m certain of it! Oh, I’m Merrill, by the way! I’m pleased to meet you, I’m sure, though of course we could have asked for better circumstances. Lucky I was due home today, though! Do you have the disk? Where did I put that reference sheet I was working on…”

This was all said very rapidly and in a sunny tone of voice that threw Loghain a bit off kilter for a moment. After Theadosia’s sultry sarcasm and Ravenna’s teasing deadpan, it was a minor shock to his usual laconic nature, but he managed to reach into his satchel and produce the small stone disk. As he did so, another man entered the study. He was tall and bore the familiar posture of a well-trained soldier, as well as the same dark locks and piercing teal eyes as Ven.

“Varric told me I’d find you here,” the newcomer shrugged in reply to Ven’s raised eyebrow, then turned his attention to Loghain. “And I take it you’re the one I’ve got to escort out into the maker forsaken desert in search of some legend?”

“And this would be my ever so charming brother, Carver,” Ven grinned, and Carver scowled at her, though his expression softened a bit as Merrill smiled at him brightly.

“Carver! It is so good to see you again. Have you been out in the sun again without that balm I gave you? Your cheeks are so flushed…”

Loghain almost felt sorry for the boy, whose cheeks were in fact rather red and growing more so at Merrill’s words. Enough so that he made an attempt to redirect the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I did not realize I would be requiring an escort. This is hardly my first time venturing out into the field.”

Carver shrugged. “Didn’t figure it was, Mac Tir. But this desert is murder if you’re not familiar with it, and my sister is insisting on accompanying you. Tempting as it sometimes is to let her run headlong into danger, she’s still my sister, and she asked for my help, so here we are. That, and I am apparently the designated bearer of bad news.”

Ravenna frowned at him while Merrill twisted and turned the disk behind her, her slender fingers occasionally tracing a few lines in the book she was referencing. “What bad news?”

“Your venatori pals have started excavation out in the desert,” Carver replied, his expression grim. “They certainly seem to think they’ve found _something_ , with or without the disk.”

“How?” Loghain demanded. “Theadosia does not have the disk, and even if she did, she cannot translate the runes. That was the whole point of us coming here in the first place.”

“Has anyone else seen the disk?” Ven asked. Loghain shook his head.

“I do not think so, unless…” he squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead briefly. “There is one possibility. During the fight at the bar, before it burned down, one of the attackers grabbed the disk. It was only for a moment, because the thing was so hot it scalded his skin. But it is possible those runes were burned into his flesh. If they found someone else to translate them…” He tried not to think about what that would mean: that either Theadosia had betrayed them, which he knew was patently impossible, or the venatori had found someone else to translate for them, and therefore may have no further reason to keep Theadosia alive.

“It is a possibility,” Ven agreed reluctantly. “It would explain why they’ve gone ahead with the excavation. If they guessed the right mosaic to match up with the disk, and if they have the measurements needed for the staff…”

“Oh! Well that’s alright then!” Merrill piped up cheerfully, a brilliant smile on her face.

“In what _possible_ universe is this alright?” Loghain grumbled, but Merrill was not deterred.

“Well, if they only have one side of the disk, they’re digging in entirely the wrong place,” she said, as though it were obvious. “See?” She showed them the disk, its silvery runes glittering in the sunlight. This half, the half they probably have, says to measure the staff at seven units, one for each of the Old Gods, but here,” she flipped the disk over, “It says, ‘and subtract one for the barbarian prophet. That would be Andraste, I assume? So if they are only using the front measure-”

“Then the location they got from the mosaic is wrong,” Loghain finished, understanding dawning on him. “You are right: they are digging in the wrong spot.”

“Merrill, you are the absolute best.” Ven planted a kiss on her friend’s head, then handed the disk back to Loghain, who tucked it safely away into his satchel. “We’ve got to go. These venatori may be idiots, but sooner or later they are going to figure out they fucked up, and I would rather beat them to the urn, and to Thea, before that happens.” She looked out the window. “You said you think the disk will correspond to a mosaic in the Temple of Dumat?”

“Yes,” Loghain nodded. “It is the only sensible solution of the available options.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Carver noted. “They’ve got the bulk of their people at the dig site, but Ven is right: we’ve got to get moving. They are digging like mad, and I don’t want to still be around when they realize they’ve got the wrong spot.”

Loghain was already halfway out the door. “Agreed. Thank you, Merrill, for your assistance. I appreciate it more than I can properly say right now, but please be assured it means a great deal.”

“Anytime!” She waved as they trooped back outside. Waiting in Carver’s truck was a woman who looked as though she had to be his twin, though her demeanor seemed a bit friendlier.

“Bethany, what in the void are you doing here?” Ven asked, not bothering to hide the exasperation in her tone. “Carver I can understand: he has always had more stubbornness than common sense, but there is no reason you need to risk your skin too.”

“Ravenna Selina Hawke, you may stop speaking about me as though I were a child,” Bethany replied, flashing a brief smile in his direction. “Hello, Professor. I heard my darling cousin has once again gotten into trouble and we’re off to go fetch her out again, yes?”

“Something like that,” Loghain confirmed, climbing into the passenger seat of Ven’s car. “We should go get supplies, though.”

“Already taken care of,” Bethany announced, tossing her head towards the back of the truck. “Shovels, rope, flashlights, handsaws, and a couple staves in case we screw up the first one.”

Ven rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “You’ve been busy since I called this morning, haven’t you?”

“I was not kidding when I said they put the place on lockdown after that body came in,” Bethany replied, brow furrowing slightly. “The entire hospital is currently on a skeleton staff. I’ll be called back in eventually, if they decide the problem is viral, but for the moment you need me more.”

“I am grateful, Doctor Hawke,” Loghain nodded in her direction, and she offered him a bright smile.

“Of course. Now come on: if I heard correctly, we have a very narrow window in which to get this location pinned down, yes?”

“Yes,” Loghain agreed, feeling uncharacteristically hopeful. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The temple was blessedly abandoned when they arrived, though there was evidence that it had not been so recently. Loghain prayed that Merrill was right: that with only half the disk’s information the venatori were digging in the wrong spot. It would buy them time, if nothing else, and hopefully buy Theadosia time as well. He and the Hawke siblings entered the ruin, a tension hanging in the air that could not be attributed to their task alone. This place was ancient, and there was an evil here that had never truly left despite the long passage of years. Sand had gathered in muted drifts amidst stone benches and grotesque statuary, giving voiceless tribute to the dragon god of silence.

“Where should we start?”

Ravenna’s voice, quiet as it had been, nearly made him start. Loghain looked around the room, then pointed in the direction of a great stone altar. “We start there,” he answered. “Cut the staff to the measurement from the disk. The point of origin should be at the base of the altar, in the front. Which means the mosaic…” Turning around, he pointed at a space on the floor had recently been cleared. “Well, that part will be straightforward,” he said wryly. “At least the venatori saved us some sweeping.”

He studied the remarkably intact swirls and patters of colored stone, tile, and gems. The pattern there would not be immediately obvious to most people, but between his own knowledge and the time he had spent with Theadosia, he could see the hidden lines and landmarks marked within the unsettling yet graceful lines of the dragon that was represented there. When sunlight pierced the center of the disk at precisely the right time of day and at precisely the right elevation, it would, in theory, reveal the location of the urn. He stepped up to the altar, trying not to think too hard about the deep ochre stains that had managed to seep into the very stone. Glancing at his watch, he nodded at Ravenna, who handed over the staff.

Loghain carefully fixed the disk onto the staff, then set it into the inconspicuous socket that had been drilled into the stone floor. Then, they waited. No one spoke; to be honest, Loghain was not certain he was even remembering to breathe. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but must have only been a few minutes, the rising sun peeked first over the sill of the window, then through it with full force. The crystal at the center of the disk seemed to flare to life, a narrow beam focusing on a single spot on the mosaic. Moving as quickly as he dared, Loghain marked the location on his makeshift map.

“It’s not far,” he announced, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Let’s move.” Ravenna was already moving back to the front of the temple, followed by Carver and Bethany. When they had emerged back into the blazing sunlight, she reached a hand up to shade her eyes, then scanned the dunes. “There,” she pointed in the direction of a distant cloud of haze and dust. “That is where the other dig site is. And where is it supposed to be?”

Loghain examined the map, then looked up to get his bearings. Finally, he pointed in a direction somewhat west of where the flurry of activity was. “Over that ridge,” he said. “There should be another structure that served as a secondary building; maybe a dormitory of sorts for the priests, or a hall for hosting visiting dignitaries. Not as important as the temples, but perhaps that is the point. There is a very good chance it is either mostly or entirely buried by the desert, so we will need to dig.”

“If we start digging now, we’ll have those reds over us before we can blink,” Carver pointed out.

“Every moment we waste, the longer Theadosia is in danger,” Loghain shot back, anger and frustration rising in his tone.

Bethany placed a gentle hand on his arm. “We know, Loghain,” she said quietly. “But we also do not want them panicking and doing something stupid. Right now, they think they have the upper hand. I do not think we can count on them stopping for the night; not if they are as desperate to reach that urn as we think they are, but if we can at least wait until nightfall we will have the cover of darkness.”

Loghain gave a huff of irritation. Bethany was right, and he knew it, but damned if he was happy about it. “Fine,” he finally conceded.

“We wait til nightfall.

* * *

Luck was, for once, with them.

Digging in sand was a nightmare: it was heavy, and had a tendency to fill any hole you managed to make as quickly as you made it. The first hour was slow going, but then they heard the sharp ring of metal on stone, and they knew they had hit what was hopefully the ceiling of the building they needed. Between the four of them, they were able to pry loose a large, square stone and set it aside, then Loghain and Ven gazed down into the dark below. In the stillness of the desert night, he could swear he heard the sound of slithering.

“Snakes,” he muttered. “ _Why_ did it have to be snakes?”

“Normally I would have a clever remark,” Ven added, “But in this case, yeah, not good. Lots of snakes in this part of the world, and most of them _very_ venomous. We’ll need to be careful.”

They lowered a rope until they felt it brush the bottom, and Loghain said a silent prayer that the floor was all they had to worry about when they descended. After anchoring the other rope to the massive stone tile they had moved, he grabbed a torch from the small cache of supplies they had brought. He lit it, then tossed it down into the depths before grabbing an unlit one and tucking it into his satchel as best he could. Ven raised a brow in question. “As it turns out, snakes are not terribly put out by flashlights,” he replied flatly. “Fire, though, at least we have a chance at keeping them at bay.”

“Ah, right,” she nodded, then grabbed one as well, tucking her flashlight into her belt. “Shall we?”

Loghain nodded, then braced himself before slowly beginning his descent. The lower he went, the louder the whispers of scales and harsh hissing became, and he reminded himself that he was doing this for Theadosia; that he would walk through the void itself just to keep her safe. Still… of all the things that could have chosen to take up residence in this building _why_ did it have to be snakes?

Finally, he felt his feet hit something blessedly solid. In the edges of his vision, where the torchlight did not quite reach the corners, he could see the glittering movement of sinuous reptiles. Fortunately, at the moment they appeared to be more or less congregated in a long-dry moat that ran along the edge of the room, which in fact seemed to be some sort of antechamber. Massive statues towered over them, their harsh features made even more ghoulish in the flickering light. He heard Ven hit the floor as well, then give a low whistle as she looked around the room.

“Wonder how long this place has been abandoned?” She mused aloud, and Loghain shrugged.

“Ages,” he replied, his voice muted. Something about this place demanded quiet, even though they were so far beneath the sand that there was no practical reason for it. “It predates the chantry incursions by at least three centuries, probably more.” He led the way farther into the dark halls, trying hard not to focus on the uncomfortably constant whispers in the vast spaces the torchlight did not reach and instead on the task at hand, and at the promise of being reunited with Theadosia. It also helped distract him from the fact he really did not have the slightest idea where to begin looking for the urn. They _probably_ had the right location, but that still left plenty of places it could have been tucked away.

When they reached a room that seemed larger than most, he took a chance and touched the torch against a wall sconce. To his surprise, it not only took, but seemed to set off a chain reaction as a dozen or so wall sconces fed from the initial flame and sprung to flickering life. And there, in the dead center of the room, was a massive statue of the prophet herself: Andraste, one hand at her heart and the other stretched out towards them, as if beckoning them closer. At the base of her feet, on an unassuming pedestal, sat a small silver urn. There was no ornamentation to it; in fact, it looked as if it were nothing particularly special. Yet despite the wide span of years that had passed there was no tarnish on it, and even now it seemed to shine and almost glow in the dim light cast by the surrounding fire.

“I’m going to take a wild guess that’s it,” Ven murmured, and Loghain nodded slowly.

“Good guess,” he agreed. They approached the pedestal then, with careful hands, gently picked up the urn. Loghain wrapped it first in a layer of cloth, then a series of twine knots, before placing it in his satchel. He was not sure what he had expected to feel in this moment. Awe, maybe, or some sort of deep religious sentiment, but then he had never been a terribly religious man. Right now, the urn was an object of untold historical significance, and it was a means to an end. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “You can take the urn back to your place, and I will go after Theadosia.”

“Bethany can handle the urn,” Ven corrected. “Besides, we are already a target. As far as we know, she is not. We will send her to my place, and Carver and I will come with you to get Thea. As much as I am sure you would like to play hero, you are not going to storm that camp by yourself.”

“I am _not_ playing the ‘hero,’” Loghain retorted irritably. “I was going to scout it out and make a plan, not simply run in guns blazing and hope for the best. Not with her life on the line.”

Even in the poor lighting, Loghain could tell Ven was grinning. “’Course you were,” she replied. As they stepped back into the antechamber, she tested the rope. Fortunately, it still seemed to be secure. “Alright, you want to go up first, or me?”

“You go first. Here,” he handed over the satchel. “Take that, give it to your sister. When I get up to the surface, we will decide what to do next.”

Ven nodded in agreement, then began the long process of pulling herself up the rope. When she had made it to the top, Loghain waited for a moment, expecting some sort of call or other sign she had made it. Instead, he watched in shock as the other end of the rope came tumbling down, landing at his feet with a sickening _thud_. High above him, he could hear the distant sounds of Ven swearing and another, much quieter voice.

He stared up at the space in the ceiling, and an unfamiliar face peered over the edge at him. She was perhaps a few years older than Theadosia, with pale skin and wintry blonde hair pulled back in a severe style that accentuated her already sharp features. Before he could say any of the plethora of things currently at the tip of his tongue, she pushed another woman towards the edge of the hole. When he realized it was Theadosia, his heart nearly stopped. The stranger called down to him, her voice eerily calm.

“I am terribly sorry, but I will have to appropriate the item you so thoughtfully recovered for us; however, I at least have a consolation prize for you. I certainly hope you are better at catching her than you were holding on to her in the first place.”

With that, she gave Theadosia a shove, and she tumbled down into the darkness. Tossing the torch aside, Loghain lunged forward, only just reaching her in time to catch her in his arms. Despite the long, voluble string of invectives she was currently screaming at the woman above them, she was trembling, and even as he gently set her down on her feet he held her close, and was unspeakably grateful that she was clinging to him as well. The darkness closed in on them as the stone he and Ven had removed slid smoothly back into place.

They were trapped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains NSFW material.

Thea was not certain if she was shaking more from fear, rage, or some twisted sense of relief. She was also more than a little annoyed that she was trembling at all, given that she was supposed to be the tough one, but right at the moment she also could not convince herself to leave the relative safety of Loghain’s arms. So instead of moving away, she stood there clinging to him, letting him hold her as he gently stroked her hair even as she continued the impressive and creative list of swears she was directing at the since departed Calpernia.

“Shh, Theadosia, it’s alright,” he spoke softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. It’s alright.”

“Loghain,” Thea replied, her voice quaking slightly, “We are trapped under Maker knows how much sand in a very dark room, and unless you have a surplus of torches tucked away somewhere, we have limited light left. ‘Alright’ may be a bit optimistic.”

He gave a dry laugh, tilting her chin up so that she was facing him and could see his small smile in the flickering torchlight. “Never imagined I would be accused of optimism,” he said, and despite everything she laughed too, then took a deep breath.

“We may not be as fucked as we think,” she said slowly, her mind considering what Calpernia had said. “I do not think Cal intended to outright kill us, or she would have done so.”

“You know that lunatic?” Loghain asked.

“Believe it or not, I suspect she is the sane one of the lot of them,” Thea sighed. “And yes, I know her. We went to school together, for a time. Calpernia is brilliant and desperately patriotic: she wants to see her homeland rise from the ashes of its own indolence and decadence. I get the idea that this is a means to an end for her; not that she buys into the whole new god or world domination theories. In any case, she said something along the lines of needing me out of the way until they could leave the desert… about me not inconveniencing them…”

Thea reluctantly stepped away from Loghain, trying not to let the look in his eyes as he studied her distract from what she had to do in the moment. Save their skins first; worry about the feelings later. Then she saw that he was biting his lower lip slightly and clearly trying not to laugh. At that moment, she remembered what she was wearing. She threw her hands up in disgust.

“I did not pick it, ok? I was trying to negotiate my way out of a shitty situation.”

He did laugh then. “Of course you didn’t, Theadosia,” he agreed. “You hate wearing white. Not to say you are not still the single most beautiful woman on the planet, but no. This is not you. Had you shown up in that black lace set you have…”

“Be glad I didn’t,” she retorted, but she was smiling. “Neither of us needs the distraction. For the record, it would have worked: their head goon, Samson, is a lightweight. I could have drunk him under the table several times over.” She quickly filled him in on what she had learned from the erstwhile templar. From the way his frown deepened when she got to the part about the red lyrium, she knew his mind was playing out the same possibilities hers had, and none of them were good.

“Theadosia,” he finally said, “We have got to get the void out of here. We _have_ to get that urn away from them.”

“I agree,” she sighed, “But first we have to… Wait a moment,” she said, her eyes focused on the torch. It was mostly holding steady, but every so often there was the slightest waver to the light. Frowning slightly, she moved towards the edge of the raised platform, taking care to stop short of the edge where even now snakes slithered and coiled. She paused, then held a hand up. “Do you feel that?”

Loghain stepped closer to her, the torch burning dangerously low in his hand. “There is an air current,” he replied. “That means this building is not completely submerged in sand on the other side of this wall.”

“Exactly,” Thea nodded. “However,” her shoulders slumped slightly, “Unless you have the tools, I do not have the slightest idea how to get to the other side. Those walls are old, but they are also solid stone.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I may have an idea… but it is dangerous and I am certainly open to alternatives.” When she raised a brow in his direction, he shrugged. “We knock over one of these statues,” he gestured at the massive monuments lining the dais. “If we can angle it correctly, it may be enough force to compromise the wall. However, we would have to keep it from toppling on top of us, pray it would not compromise the roof, and we would only have one chance.”

Thea considered for a moment, then gave him a small smile. “It is absolutely insane, but it just might work. More to the point, I am not coming up with anything better.” She cast her gaze around the room, spotting some tall candle holders and a stone that ought to work well enough. “We can try and leverage it over with this,” she suggested. “We dig out enough space to cram one end of the lever under it, then pray we can counter balance it enough to send it in the other direction.”

They worked with feverish intent, constantly aware of the rapidly dwindling light of the torch and the increasing boldness of the serpents surrounding them. When they were ready to make an attempt, Loghain looked at her and tossed his head behind him. “You should probably stand back. If this goes wrong, I do not want this thing crushing you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Loghain, if this goes wrong, we are both fucked. I would just as soon help you and die in the attempt than be left alone in the dark to be a meal for the snakes.”

He shuddered slightly at that, but nodded in tacit agreement. Then they both placed their hands on the makeshift lever, gave each other a final, determined glance, then pressed down with as much strength as they could manage. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was happening. Then, slowly, Thea heard the groaning protest of stone against sand. Before she could truly register what was happening, the great, towering statue tumbled down away from them, hitting the wall with a thunderous roar and sending up a tempest of sand and chips of stone. As the air cleared, the torch finally went out, but on the other side Thea could see the first pale wash of day as it eased through the gaping space they had created.

“Andraste’s ass, I cannot believe that worked,” Loghain whispered.

“Me either,” Thea admitted. “Come on. Let’s get the void out of here. We have to find the urn, and we have to find out what happened to Ven and the others.”

They scrambled over the fallen statue and through the newly created exit, their feet sinking into the sand as they emerged into the blue light of dawn as it crept over the dunes. Loghain caught her hand in his as they left the confines of the stone halls behind them, pulling her into his arms and holding her close once again. Despite the urgency of everything else, Thea did not protest. She sank into his embrace, burying her head against his chest and finally exhaling a deep, relieved breath.

“Theadosia,” he spoke softly, “I… I wanted to tell you…”

She looked up, placing a delicate finger against his lips. “Loghain,” she murmured, “I know. And I have not forgotten. I promise, we will talk as soon as we have more than half a moment to breathe. In the meantime,” she hiked up the skirt of the abhorrent nightgown, resisting the impulse to shiver against the chill of the early morning and instead beginning the long slog up the dune and back towards the venatori camp. “We need to get moving. Now that they have what they want, I doubt they are going to stick around long. Besides, I want to get the void out of this lingerie nightmare and into some proper clothes, yes?”

Loghain chuckled quietly, but she swore there was something disappointed in his eyes, and it made her heart twinge slightly. “Hey,” she paused long enough to arch onto her toes and press a lingering kiss against his cheek. “If you think we are going to live through something like this and there is a single chance I am going to let you disappear on me, you are sorely mistaken,” she said, hoping there was some sort of reassurance there.

“If I remember correctly,” he pointed out, “ _You_ are the one who disappeared. And with good reason.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Now I have even more compelling reasons to stay put.”

He gave her a small smile, and she was glad to see the worry had left his eyes. “Alright, Theadosia. Let’s go see what we can do about saving a holy relic.”

* * *

“Fuck.”

Loghain sighed quietly beside her as they both peeked around one of the field tents that had been hastily set up. “Yes, that should about sum it up.”

While most of the workers had been long since sent away as soon as the urn had been located, there were still a dozen or so guards that had been trusted with getting the relic to wherever they planned on taking it next. They had eyes on the crate they were fairly certain contained it, being loaded onto a truck across a makeshift airfield, but currently no way to get to it. Thea had managed to nab some clothes from what she suspected had been Calpernia’s tent before the other woman had vanished along with Samson and most of the other soldiers. They were meant for the taller woman, but she had made them work.

“I have six shots left,” Loghain said, checking his gun. “Even assuming I hit true every time, that still leaves at least six more, including that very, very large gentleman overseeing the trucks.”

Thea looked in the direction he was indicating and winced slightly. “Yes, that… that could be a problem.”

“We need a distraction,” he mused, studying the airfield. “Those are fuel tanks over there, yes? If we could light those on fire somehow, they would have to scramble to put them out before it spreads to the entire camp.”

“Do you think they care, at this point?” Thea asked. “They have what they came for: I suspect the rest of this set up is expendable.”

“Perhaps, but I have found people do not always tend to act logically when it comes to emergencies,” Loghain replied. “Here is what I suggest: you sneak as close to the truck as you can. I will take a shot at the fuel tank, see if I cannot at least get it leaking, which may be distraction enough. If it happens to get close enough I can spark it, I will, but we may not have the chance. Once they come after me, you drive like the void back to the city.”

Thea stared at him for a moment. “You are an idiot,” she whispered fiercely, and he looked at her in confusion. “You _honestly_ think there is even a _fraction_ of a chance I am driving off without you? After I _just_ got you back?”

His gaze softened a bit. “Theadosia, I-”

“No,” she shot back stubbornly. “Absolutely not. This is the same damn thing you did last time: taking away my choice simply because you think you are protecting me. Well not this time, Loghain Mac Tir. We do this together, or we do not do it at all, do you understand me?”

He gave her a small smile. “Perfectly, Theadosia. However, we need to come up with an alternative _now_ , because that truck is almost loaded.”

Thea’s brow furrowed, and she bit her lower lip slightly. She scanned the camp quickly, trying to come up with something, _anything_ , better. Finally, it came to her. “We need to get as close to that plane as we can,” she said, her voice low. “If you can distract the big guy long enough to give me time to get into that cockpit, I may have an idea.”

Loghain looked at her with just a trace of skepticism in his eyes. “Theadosia, not to disparage your not inconsiderable intelligence or abilities, but do you have even the first idea of how to fly a plane?”

She shook her head. “I do not intend to fly it,” she corrected. “But you would be amazed what kind of knowledge you can pick up working at a dive bar in the middle of nowhere: had a flyboy from the rebellion roll through about a year back, and he talked my ear off about his plane. I am betting I will be able to figure out how to get the guns on that thing working, and if we do, we won’t need to fly. We can drive that truck right on out of here.”

“You are absolutely mad,” Loghain shook his head, but she could see a glint of approval there. She flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You ready?” She asked softly, taking his hand in hers and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Ready,” he nodded.

They moved as quickly as they could, keeping to cover when possible and darting from spot to spot where they could not. Finally, they were as close to the plane as they were going to get. Loghain took a deep breath, then stepped into the open, calling out a taunt to the large soldier standing guard by the aircraft. This close, Thea could see he wore the rank markings of a knight-captain, meaning he was one of the templars that had defected from the chantry. She watched as he barreled towards Loghain fists first, but Loghain side-stepped the attack and responded with a swift kick to the templar’s back. It barely fazed him, however, and he quickly turned and took another swing at Loghain, this one connecting with his jaw.

Thea winced, but realized that this was the only opening she was going to get. She darted from her hiding spot and quickly clambered up onto the plane, using a nearby wrench to smash open the cockpit window before she gingerly lowered herself inside. Outside, the she could see the fight continuing between Loghain and the templar, and though Loghain was giving as good as he was getting, he had taken more than a couple hits. Worse than that, the noise of the fight had attracted the other soldiers, and he would soon be outnumbered.

She quickly studied the control panel in front of her. Most of it was completely alien to her, but she had always been good at puzzles. She began flipping switches and pressing buttons, rapidly experimenting with the different functions of the craft before finally one resulted in the guns lowering from their casings and locking into position, as well as a low buzz and a sudden roar as the propellers sprung to life. Thea said a brief prayer to whatever deity may be listening, then squeezed her hands around the controls. A burst of gunfire barked out in the desert, and two of the men who had been coming to the aid of their commander fell in a crumpled heap. Thea twisted the controls around, aiming this time, and took out two more who had made the decision to try and come closer rather than running away like two of their companions had.

Unfortunately, the man who was currently fighting with Loghain was too close to the plane. There was no way for her to shoot him and, even if there was, it would be too risky: the spray of bullets would likely tear through both men, which was the last thing she wanted. Still, she had to do _something_ : Loghain was bleeding badly from a wound on his head, and though he was still standing his opponent seemed no closer to wearing down. She had a sudden, desperate idea. Forcing open the cockpit hatch, she called down to Loghain.

“ _Get down!_ ”

He immediately dropped, not questioning her for a moment. The templar, however, had no such faith in her. He remained standing, glaring at her with unrestrained rage as he moved towards her. Not fast enough to prevent her from clumsily steering the plane in a slow circle, and by the time he realized what was about to happen, it was too late. Thea squeezed her eyes shut as she heard flesh meet metal, and the brief shrieks that were quickly silenced by the unfeeling blades. When she stopped, she shut down the plane completely then, for good measure, smashed the controls with the wrench she had used to break in. She clambered back out, trying not to look at the carnage she had wrought. Instead, Thea leaned down and helped Loghain stand. He was still in one piece, though he was leaning on her more than she had expected.

“Poor bastard,” he muttered. “He was probably just following a bad order.” He leaned down and picked up a bloody piece of the templar’s uniform. The name ‘Denam’ was embroidered over one of the pockets.

Thea shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But he was going to kill you, and if he had gotten the urn to wherever they were taking it? They would have killed a lot more people.”

“I know, Theadosia,” he sighed. She helped him into the truck which, not surprisingly, had been abandoned when the gunfire erupted. “Let’s just get this thing back to Denerim.”

She turned the key in the ignition before reaching over and taking his hand in hers.

“Agreed. Let’s go home.”

* * *

“Oh thank the _maker_ you’re alright!”

They were met at the front door of Ven’s house by all three Hawke siblings and a clamor of questions. Thea and Loghain recapped the events of the afternoon as best they could, then asked Ven how she and the others had managed to escape.

“They let us go,” Ven shrugged. “They took the urn, of course, and there was a very large, very angry man who came barreling up to us right after they tossed you down into the pit, Thea. He was quite put out that Thea, er… well, _didn’t_ , and that Calpernia was not letting him ‘keep’ her. He then argued very loudly that we all ought to be shot on sight, but Cal let us go. Said they got what they came for and that the disappearance of all three Hawke siblings was going to cast too much suspicion on them.”

“She is not wrong,” Thea agreed. “Though I wonder just how devoted to the cause Cal is. I have a strong suspicion she knew perfectly well that pit would not hold Loghain and I, even though she probably would have preferred it take a bit longer for us to dig our way out.”

Ven looked skeptical, but did not argue. “In any case, given the circumstances I have bumped up our timeline a bit. We need to get that thing out of the desert and back to Denerim _now_.”

“Agreed,” Loghain said, “And while I am somehow not even remotely surprised you already had a plan, would you care to share it?”

“My plan was to fly out the way we came in,” Thea replied flatly. “However, that option is now off the table.”

“Indeed. Your opponents have some powerful friends,” Bethany chimed in. “The airport is being monitored and all flights, commercial and private, are being watched. Furthermore, they’ve got road blocks set up at all the routes in and out of the city.”

Loghain pinched the bridge of his nose, and Thea resisted the urge to reach a hand out to him. “So what do you propose we do?”

Ven grinned. “Easy. We simply… modify your transportation. One of my partners, Isabela, has a boat. It is ostensibly a ‘trading’ vessel, but her goods are… well, not always strictly legal. If anyone can smuggle you, it’ll be her. We’ll take the back roads to the port at Lake Celestine. She can get you as far as Jader, where we have a pilot who won’t ask too many questions. He can fly you to Denerim.”

Thea’s lips curved up in a half-smile. “Let me guess: Zev?”

“He was willing enough when I told him it was a favor for you and Cat,” Ven laughed. “Let’s get you packed back up and on the road. Loghain, you’re looking a little rough. We need to get you a doctor, or you think you’ll be ok?”

“I will be fine, Ravenna,” Loghain answered, though now that Thea took a good look at him she realized her cousin was right: Loghain had taken the brunt of the violence in the desert, and though he was still standing she knew he had to be in pain.

“Loghain,” she said quietly, “Maybe Ven is right. If you’re hurt-”

“I will be fine, Theadosia,” he reassured her.

Ven nodded in mute approval. “Ok. The good news is you will have a couple days at sea where you can rest and hopefully recuperate.” She turned to Thea, a smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I have no doubt you will be well-cared for.”

Thea just rolled her eyes before heading upstairs and quickly packing both their suitcases and, with Carver’s help, loading them into Ven’s car. She gave hugs to both the twins, then helped Loghain settle into the passenger seat before she curled up in the back, trying to catch a brief nap as Ven navigated the back roads that would lead out of the wide expanses of sand and heat and back towards the lush greenery of eastern Orlais. She was vaguely aware of Ven and Loghain holding a discussion in hushed tones, but was too tired to really make out what they were saying.

Hours later, when they pulled into the portside docks at Lake Celestine, they were greeted by none other than the Queen of the Eastern Seas herself. Isabela did not hesitate to pull Thea into a warm embrace, pressing a loud kiss to her lips with a bright laugh. “If it isn’t Teddy Girl,” she grinned broadly. “Ven told me you’d got yourself into trouble again. I have half a mind to help you get into more.”

Thea gave a brief huff of mock exasperation, but she was smiling nonetheless. “We are grateful, Bela,” she said. She gave a final hug and quiet thanks to Ven, then she and Loghain boarded the ship bound for Ferelden.

For home.

* * *

Thea took a comb to her hair, carefully untangling the recently washed and dried waves. She had not even realized how much she had been craving something as simple as a shower, and she felt worlds better for simply having had a chance to wash. Half of her had been tempted to invite Loghain to join her, but he had fallen asleep nearly as soon as they had been shown to the cozy quarters they would be occupying for the duration of the trip. Maker only knew the poor man must have been exhausted, so she let him rest.

“I do not remember that robe.”

She turned to face him as he sat up slowly, wincing against the pain from his injuries. They had taken stock when they got on the ship and, while nothing seemed to be broken, he had definitely taken a beating. Had he not been trained as a soldier himself and in as good of shape as he was, the damage would have been much worse. “Bela lent it to me,” she shrugged. “I do not think I am the first woman she has had on this ship.”

Loghain gave a small snort of laughter, and she smiled. “I think you are probably right,” he said.

“Yes, well,” Thea shrugged. “Turn around for a moment. I need to change into my nightshirt.”

“It is not anything I have not seen before, Theadosia.”

The low, inviting timbre of his voice sent a pleasant shiver through her entire body. “Perhaps,” she agreed, “And perhaps if you are very good, you may yet see it again.”

“And if I am very bad?”

_Oh damn_. He still knew exactly what to say to her, and more to the point, he knew exactly how to say it to make her come completely undone. And maker take her, but Thea had missed him. She had missed _them_. “I would think you had learned by now not to tease,” she said, her own voice soft and full of all the promises he knew damn well she could deliver on.

“Theadosia, if nothing else, please do not make me try and turn over in this state,” Loghain grumbled. “I will close my eyes if I must.”

“Loghain,” she said gently, setting her brush on the table and coming to sit on the edge of his bunk. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

She laughed quietly. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

His eyes met hers, and she could tell he was fighting some sort of internal battle. Finally, he sighed, then pointed to a spot on his shoulder. “I think this got the worst of it,” he admitted.

Thea leaned down and brushed her lips against the spot he indicated, the warmth and the familiar taste of his skin making her dizzy with too many emotions. His hand drifted to his temple, and she pressed another kiss there, breathing in the scent of the soap he used and the familiar scent that was simply _him_. His fingers moved to his chest where it was exposed by the unbuttoned portion of his shirt, and Thea whispered another kiss over his heart, the steady beat quickening as she did so. Then, after meeting her eyes once more, Loghain’s fingers brushed ever so briefly against his own lips.

And Thea kissed him.

In that moment, she fell. She fell in love with him just as hard as she had all those years ago, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, she knew there was no possible way she would ever be able to leave his side again. She deepened their kiss, her tongue dancing ever so lightly over his lower lip before tangling with his, her entire world fading away save for the two of them together in the stillness of their quarters. In the periphery of her awareness she felt the silken folds of the robe she had been wearing fall from her shoulders, then to the floor, and she did not do a damn thing to stop it.

Loghain leaned back, resting against the pillows, and just stared at her. “Theadosia,” he whispered, almost as though he did not trust the reality of the moment. Void, she was not certain she did, either. “Theadosia, I have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Loghain. That being said,” her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly one by one, “I fear that you are in no shape to be doing what I think we are both suggesting at the moment.”

“I beg to differ,” he corrected, catching her in his arms and pulling her close, kissing her again. “Theadosia, right now what I need more than anything is you: to know that you are here, and that we are together, and that I am not going to lose you again.”

“Never,” she murmured, pushing his shirt down off of his shoulders and helping him slip it off before tossing it on the floor and starting at his belt buckle. For all that it had been three years since she had done this, she was remarkably quick to remember how, and it did not take her terribly long to strip him of the rest of his clothes even as she took care not to aggravate his injuries.

Oh yes: she remembered how this went. She sank easily back into the exhilarating rush that was his touch as his hands traced every part of her, his hands gentle and insistent in turns, and the kisses he graced upon her skin with a new breed of want fused with the tenderness he only ever showed her. It had never been as good as it was with Loghain, and in the past three years she had not ever bothered trying. No one would ever compare to the man she loved more than life itself. This was the man who could spend hours mapping out every inch of her body with his mouth and his fingers, testing every possible way he could think of to leave her breathless and desperate for him. Or, at other times, the man who could fuck her senseless in a rush of impatience on both their parts, and an intense, fiery passion they shared with no one but each other.

She arched her back, her entire body sparking as she came, her hips still riding him even as she collapsed against Loghain’s chest. Without missing a beat he rolled her over, his own thrusts quickening then, with a breathless utterance of her name, he fell over the edge as well. He lay down beside her, holding her close even as his chest rose and fell rapidly while he tried to steady his breath. “Theadosia,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead as he stroked her hair, “I _missed_ you.”

Thea smiled, nestling her head closer against his shoulder while he pulled the covers up over them.

“I missed you too, Loghain.”

_I love you_.


	7. Chapter 7

As far as Loghain was concerned, there was no world beyond the tiny, slightly rusted confines of their quarters on _The Siren’s Call_. There did not need to be: he had his Theadosia lying safe in his arms, and even though he still had not managed to speak the words he knew he needed to, that he desperately _wanted_ to, for the first time in three years he thought that perhaps things might turn out alright after all. He simply had to convince her…

“Theadosia?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to his chest as she nuzzled closer to him. “Yes, Loghain?”

He ran a gentle hand over her hair and down the length of her spine, trying not to completely lose himself in her, tempting as that proposition was. Were he not still in a fair amount of pain and were they not both utterly exhausted, he may well have suggested a great deal more. Instead, he simply asked, “What will you do when this is over?”

Theadosia seemed to consider for a moment. “I am not certain,” she finally admitted. “Since my bar burned down,” she added dryly.

“I am sorry for that,” he said, knowing full well it was a lie, and by her answering laugh she knew it too. “Were you happy, there in the Hinterlands? So far from the city, and your friends, and-”

She laced her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. “From you?” She asked softly, and he nodded. Theadosia sighed. “I was miserable, Loghain. I hated Redcliffe. I still hate Redcliffe. I miss my house by the sea, and being able to run outside and down to the ocean whenever I pleased. I miss living in a city and being able to get a decent cocktail I did not have to make myself. I miss Cat and Nate and Nora, and yes, you, you impossible man,” she leaned up and brushed a kiss against his lips. “I missed you. Do you know how many times I thought about coming home? Of swallowing my own stupid pride and just admitting that I was lonely and miserable and homesick?”

“Why didn’t you, Theadosia?” He asked, but he already knew the answer. She simply shook her head against the pillows.

“Because I was not certain I was wanted.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he exhaled, pulling her close to his chest and trying to will away the pain he had caused her. “Theadosia, I never stopped wanting you to come home. I never stopped hoping, _praying_ , you would. I should have come after you; I know that now. I should have written, or called, or just gotten on a damn plane and begged you to come home with me.”

“Yes,” Theadosia agreed, but he could hear the smile in her tone. “You should have.”

She turned over, nestling her back up against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Would it be so awful, Theadosia? Coming home?”

He heard her exhale softly. “No, Loghain,” she murmured. “It would not be so awful at all. Especially if I thought I might have someone to keep me company in that big house of mine. I have always valued my space, but…” Her words were interrupted by a delicate yawn. “But I would be willing to share with the right person. Were he so inclined.”

Loghain laughed quietly as he reached over and switched off the light in the cabin. They both knew she would not be moving back to her own bunk tonight. “When this is all over and settled, Theadosia,” he said, “You and I will sit down, have a drink, and talk all of this through. In the meantime, I for one could use a good night’s sleep.”

“Mmmhmm,” she mumbled, already halfway to the fade herself. “Goodnight, Loghain.”

He brushed one more kiss to her cheek, then settled in beside her, the warmth of her skin against his doing more to ease his aches and pains than anything else.

“Goodnight, Theadosia.”

* * *

The sun was shining clear and bright through the porthole when he woke the next morning. He was still more than a little sore and his entire body was stiff, but at the moment Loghain really could not be bothered to care. He and Theadosia were together again, and she wanted to be with him; wanted to come home and start building the life they had always intended to. They simply had to get the urn back to Denerim.

Theadosia was not in bed at the moment, but she could not have been gone long. The place where she had lain was still warm, and the pillow still held the faint scent of her lavender perfume. For the first time in three years, Loghain allowed himself to acknowledge that he was happy. He was happy, and he was in love, and when they got back to the city and finished this business he was going to finally ask Theadosia the question he should have all that time ago. He was not going to make the same mistake again.

Despite the slightly cramped conditions of the room, it was comfortable, and Loghain was considering simply dozing back off to get a few more hours of rest when a sudden commotion on the top deck shocked the last few shreds of sleep from his mind and set him wide awake. He quickly threw on his clothes, grabbed his gun, then slipped out into the passageway. _The Siren’s Call_ was eerily empty: there had not been too many crew members on board in the first place, but now the entire ship seemed deserted save for the pounding footsteps above him.

Whatever was happening, it was not good.

He crept up the stairs and carefully opened the door, keeping close to the wall as he slowly made his way closer to the sounds of the action. Loghain pulled himself up into the hollow of a large, metal tube and tried to get a better view of what was going on while still remaining more or less out of sight. He knew there was a time and place for a bold frontal assault, but this was not it: in fact, if he did not use his head rather than his heart, he might well get a lot of innocent people killed.

There was a crowd of people on deck: Isabela and her ragtag crew, a large contingent of venatori and red templars, and the man he now knew as Raleigh Samson. Isabela was glaring at the red templar general, who did not seem to be paying her much mind at all. His soldiers were carefully loading a crate onto their own submarine, and Loghain realized with grim recognition that it was the crate that held the urn. That was bad enough; however, his heart sank and his anger flared when he realized Theadosia was being held captive by two men directly behind Samson.

“Where’s Mac Tir?” Samson asked impatiently. “You have the urn and you have the woman, so he can’t be too far off.”

“The man?” Isabela snorted. “Dead. Tried to take my property and, unlike you assholes, did not have the manpower to back up his audacity. Really, I don’t know how you and your gang of thugs didn’t manage to off him yourself when one woman with good aim managed just as well.”

Samson muttered something, then gestured to the others with the toss of his head. They began dragging Theadosia towards the submarine, and Loghain realized they intended to take her with. To what end, he had no idea, but he also had not intention of finding out. He was about to leave his hiding place and charge the entire force, caution be damned, when Isabela spoke again.

“Give me back the woman,” she demanded. “You’ve taken all the other cargo I had of value, thus rendering this trip utterly unprofitable. At least let me keep her so that I can try and sell her off in Tevene, or maybe for a ransom. She’s clearly no use to you.”

“Now that is where you are very wrong,” Samson corrected with an unpleasant leer. “She wriggled away from me once, but I do not intend to let that happen again. My master said I could keep her, so you’ll get nothing, and you’ll be damned grateful if I don’t blow this rickety tub out of the water, you sullen pirate wench.”

Isabela let loose with a string of obscenities, but Loghain did not hear her. Instead, his eyes met Theadosia’s. Of course, amidst the chaos, she had found him. She always did. Despite their dire situation, she seemed mostly calm save for a spark of panic in her eyes that no one else would recognize. Without saying a word, she simply gave him a slow, subtle shake of her head. Whatever she had planned, she did not want him to come after her. Not yet.

And so he watched in helpless silence as Samson and his forces disembarked from _The Siren’s Call_ back to their own vessel, then he pulled himself up and out of the vent and dropped down onto the deck. Isabela caught sight of him and gave a small sight of relief. “Thank the Maker,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder as he approached. “You’re damn lucky that idiot has about as much critical thinking skill as a coconut. And you’re also damn lucky you did not try to storm in here guns blazing or we would all be dead at the moment.”

“I am not a complete idiot, Isabela,” Loghain replied dryly. “But now I have to figure out how to get Theadosia back. And the urn.”

She flashed him a grin, and he knew she had noticed exactly where his priorities lie. “We proceed as planned, more or less. Before we got boarded, Thea managed to tell me where she thinks they will take the urn: to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, above the village of Haven in the Frostback Mountains. They can’t get that sub through the channel between Lake Celestine and The Waking Sea; the river is too shallow and too narrow for them, but not for me. They will have to go all the way back to the port, then get a plane that is capable of getting through the mountains, and a pilot crazy enough to try.”

“And where does that leave us?” Loghain pressed, trying to keep the impatience from his tone.

Isabela shrugged. “You may have noticed we have already picked up steam. We will sail to Jader as planned, where the pilot who was originally going to take you to Denerim will instead take you to the temple.”

“And you think they will actually be mad enough to try?”

“Oh, I _know_ he will,” Isabela laughed. “If anyone can get you through the mountains and up to the village, it will be Zevran Arainai. In the meantime, I was not entirely truthful with those jackasses when I said they had taken all my valuable cargo.” She gestured for him to follow her below decks, and there, in the galley, she tugged out a crate from beneath the sink that held, ostensibly, potatoes. When she opened it, however, the contents were decidedly not root vegetables.

“Idiots,” she crowed softly. “Clearly did not know the first thing about raiding a smuggler’s ship.”

Loghain stared at the cache of weapons, including, of all things, a grenade launcher. He nodded slowly, a small smile tilting at his lips.

“I think I can work with this.”

* * *

Both Isabela and Zevran had been as good as promised, and they made excellent time getting him back to Ferelden and the eerie, decrepit village that was Haven. The residents of the backwater locale eyed Loghain with open suspicion before scuttling back into their homes and slamming their doors shut. This suited him fine, as he had absolutely no interest in engaging with them, nor did he have any particular use for them. He had his map, and he had his common sense. And he had a grenade launcher, which at the moment was aimed directly at the slowly moving caravan winding its way through the snowy mountain pass.

“Let the woman go, and put the crate down, or I will blow it all back to the void,” he called down from his perch on the mountainside, immediately attracting Samson’s attention and prompting the rest of the party to turn on their heels and aim their weapons at him. Samson just met his gaze with a lazy grin.

“Be my guest,” he shouted back, gesturing to his men to lower the crate holding the urn and to step away. After a moment of hesitation, they did so, though they also managed to keep a firm grip on Theadosia. She looked up at him, and for the first time since they had gotten into this mess she seemed worried. Samson laughed. “You can’t do it, can you? You can’t bring yourself to destroy it; to destroy everything it represents to you people.”

“Wrong,” Loghain retorted. “I do not give a damn about the ashes. For all we know the ashes are not even Andraste’s. Even if they are, we do not know if they have the alleged ‘healing’ powers or not. Personally, I am doubtful.”

Samson shrugged, insolence replete in the gesture. “You would not be here if you did not care,” he pointed out. “Even if this one,” he tossed his head in Theadosia’s direction, “Wasn’t involved, you would have still come. You can’t resist it: the chance to find something lost to history. The chance to solve one of the greatest archaeological mysteries of all time. And even if none of that were true? You would have done it for your country. For your queen.”

Loghain shook his head. “You do not know me. You do not know a damn thing.”

Samson’s grin widened. “I know enough to keep you talking,” he said.

At that moment, there was a quiet _click_ directly behind his head, and Loghain realized his mistake. He sighed, then set the grenade launcher down and put his hands up. _What an incredibly stupid way to die_. Samson seemed to guess his thoughts, because he gave an unpleasant laugh as the gunman prodded Loghain down the mountain.

“Don’t worry, Mac Tir,” he said. “I want you alive to see this. _Then_ I’ll kill you. Not that you’ll prove much of a threat once we’ve unlocked the power of the urn, but you’ve already been a nuisance, and you’ve pissed me off. On top of which, I don’t want you to get any ideas about coming after Lady Thea, here.”

For her part, Theadosia simply rolled her eyes, though her gaze softened as he approached, and a small, grim smile curved at her lips. “He will be disappointed,” she spoke under her breath as he fell into step beside her, their forced march taking them further up the mountain and into a great stone temple set into its side. “Thank you, by the way, for not blowing the urn to pieces.”

“I wish he had not called my bluff,” Loghain muttered. “Apparently his stupidity does not extend quite as far as I had hoped.”

“To be honest, I thought you might have done it anyways,” Theadosia pointed out. “The only reason I have not tried is because there must be a real, urgent reason Cataline needs it. This is more than just a retrieval mission, but she was not inclined to tell me anymore than what she told you.”

Loghain looked down at her briefly. “Theadosia, if I had taken the shot, you would have been killed, and he knew it. There was a reason he did not have you move any farther back.”

“I am not certain my life was worth the price we’re paying,” Theadosia murmured.

“It is worth everything, Theadosia,” he countered. “Besides, it is not over yet.”

Samson turned around to glare at them. “You two, shut up, would you?” They had reached a great stone hall, empty save for a towering statue of the prophet Andraste at the front and a simple stone altar. It was, in fact, very similar to the hall in the Western Approach where Loghain had found the ashes in the first place. He was not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination. At best he could be considered agnostic, but even he could feel the power radiating in this place. Whatever was here, whatever this place was, it was not solely of this world.

“Shit,” he heard Theadosia swear softly beside him, and he knew that she felt it, too. They were both pushed roughly to the side as soldiers filed into the room, nearly filling the cavernous space. An uneasy tension bled into the atmosphere as they reacted to the same sense of uncertainty and dread that he and Theadosia had, and when the crate containing the urn was brought to the rest in front of the altar, an unprompted hush fell over the temple.

“Tie them up,” Samson barked to one of his underlings. “We take no chances.” The man nodded sharply, then scurried back to where Theadosia and Loghain had been left briefly unattended. He neatly bound their wrists, then for good measure bound them together, back to back. Unfortunate, since it meant they would not be able to just run off and try to find something on which to cut their bonds.

“Loghain, this is very, very bad,” Theadosia whispered, and for the first time in his life he heard a genuine undercurrent of fear in her voice.

“I know, Theadosia,” he agreed, “But if I have to be here… if this is the way it has to end, I am glad I am with you.”

He felt her lean her head against his back. “Me too,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly.

They were nearly finished setting up. Whatever ritual the venatori planned on performing, they were ready to begin. Samson slowly lifted the urn from its resting place and set it carefully on the altar. Loghain reached his hand back as best he could until he was able to weave his fingers together with Theadosia’s. Now, more than ever, he was regretting his own stubbornness and stupidity.

“Theadosia?”

“Yes, Loghain?”

“I love you, Theadosia. I love you.”

“I know,” she whispered, gently squeezing his hand.

“When they open the urn-”

“Close my eyes, yes,” she agreed. “I know the old legends. Still a bit optimistic they will simply turn out to be legends, but perhaps it would be better for us if they were not. And, Loghain?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you, too.”

With that, he closed his eyes.

And then the screaming began.

* * *

Loghain was familiar with death. He had fought in the rebellions; lead countless battles and military actions, and gone on more archaeological expeditions than he could remember, some more lethal than others. Still, nothing he had ever encountered in his life up until this point could have prepared him for the sounds of confusion, then fear, then unparalleled agony that rose around up around him, echoing endlessly against the barren stone walls of the temple.

There were legends about the urn. Most had to do with the more benign aspects of the relic: the healing powers, the holy blessings it could bestow, the awe it could inspire from the faithful. Mixed amidst those tales, however, was a darker narrative: one that spoke of the horrible fate that would befall anyone foolish enough to attempt to defile the ashes of Andraste; to use her holy remains for ill purpose. A cautionary tale, Loghain had always thought: a bit of extra chantry moralizing to make the story more interesting. And yet here they were, in the middle of their own personal void, and all he could do was keep his eyes squeezed tightly shut and pray Theadosia was doing the same.

It felt as if the maelstrom went on for an eternity, but in reality it must have only been a few minutes; perhaps not even that long. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the screaming stopped. There was a distant, metallic _thud_ as if someone had gently closed the urn. Loghain could feel Theadosia still pressed against him, her entire body shaking. To his alarm, he realized he was shaking as well, but also that the ropes that had bound them together had vanished. Neither one of them moved, however, for a long moment. Finally, he heard a faint whisper from Theadosia.

“Is it over?”

He nodded slowly. “I think so,” he replied. Then, carefully, he opened his eyes. He turned to the front of the temple as Theadosia did the same. There were faint traces of ash on their wrists where the ropes had been, as if they had somehow been burned away, but their skin was otherwise unmarked. More disconcerting, however, was the rest of the hall. Where mere minutes earlier it had been nearly packed with red templars and venatori, it was now glaringly empty. No Samson, no soldiers… nothing, save for the urn itself, tightly closed and solitary on the stone altar resting at the feet of the great statue of Andraste.

Theadosia’s hand was still holding his tightly, but he pulled her into his arms and held her there as she quietly sobbed. Honestly, if he were not in a state of shock he suspected he may have not been in any better shape. When she finally took a step back and looked up at him, scrubbing tears from her eyes, the familiar strength and resolve had replaced the abject fear that had been there earlier.

“Let’s get the void out of here.”

* * *

“Those _idiots_.”

Loghain stalked out the front doors of the university, a deep scowl darkening his features. At his side, Lady Cataline Howe did not appear much more pleased. “I am not happy either, Loghain,” she agreed, her well-cultivated voice maintaining its evenness despite her displeasure. “I was used, and I dislike being used, but I believed it necessary to negotiate with Eamon. Now-”

“Now the relic has disappeared to Maker only knows where,” Loghain growled. “To be looked at by ‘top men,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“Correct,” Cataline sighed. “Nora did her best to get some answers, but even she could not stand against the full might of the chantry.”

“Their ignorance is going to get someone else killed.”

Cat gave a small shrug. “Perhaps, but there is little enough we can do about it now. Besides,” her lips quirked up in a small smile, “You still came home with something far more valuable, I think.”

Loghain turned in the direction Cat was looking, and saw Theadosia sitting on a bench on the university lawn, talking quietly with Nathaniel. He knew that both Cat and her husband had been overjoyed when Theadosia informed them of her intent to return to Denerim full-time, though he wondered if that enthusiasm would be tempered by her forgiveness of him. Theadosia looked up at them, and a smile bloomed bright and honest on her lips. She and Nathaniel stood up and, after he had given her a warm hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek, he walked towards Cat and Loghain. Nathaniel eyed him warily, then sighed and held out his hand. Loghain accepted the gesture.

“She is giving you a second chance,” Nathaniel observed, “And I admit I am not as upset about that as I probably ought to be.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Nate,” Loghain replied dryly, but internally he was grateful there was now at least the possibility of getting his friend back as well as the woman he loved. Nathaniel gave him a small smile.

“So long as you understand that, should you hurt her a second time, I will personally ensure you do not have the opportunity to do it a third.”

Loghain gave a small chuckle. “Of course, Nate. Dinner on Friday?”

Nathaniel nodded as Cat tucked her arm in his and smiled brightly. “We will see you then,” she confirmed, and they wandered off in the direction of their car as Loghain turned back to where Theadosia was waiting. He walked over to her, his heart warming slightly as her lips tilted up into the smile she only ever had for him. She tucked her arm through his when he reached her, and they began wandering in the general direction of town.

“Based on the impressive scowl on your face when you came out, I am guessing the meeting did not go well?” She asked.

“The urn has been ‘appropriated,’” Loghain replied, sarcasm heavy in his words. “By the chantry, it seems, which means Anora had no real recourse to keep them from absconding with it. They did agree to part with a small pinch of ashes to try and cure Eamon, which seems an utter waste to me, but I was not consulted.”

Theadosia sighed. “I am sorry, love,” she said, and the endearment did a great deal to thaw his irritation. “But at least it is over. And at least we are home.”

“We are,” Loghain agreed slowly.

She gave his arm a squeeze. “So what do you think? Want to go get that drink I owe you?”

“May I ask you something first?”

“You just did,” she countered, a spark of mischief in her storm blue eyes, “But of course you may ask me another.”

Loghain reached into his pocket and withdrew the small box he had been carrying around since he had left Denerim in the first place. He handed it to Theadosia, who accepted it with curiosity before carefully opening it and promptly freezing in her tracks. Loghain took a deep breath.

“I suppose I should have gotten down on one knee, or something to that effect, but I am afraid I am still recovering from our adventure in the desert. Besides, you’ve never been much for tradition.”

Theadosia was quiet for a moment, and Loghain was almost afraid of what she would say next, but when she finally spoke there was the familiar hint of teasing in her tone. “You finally intend to make an honest woman of me, do you?”

“I do not know about that,” Loghain retorted, “But I love you. I love you more than life itself, Theadosia, and I do not want to lose you again. I should have done this three years ago, and if you are willing, I intend to spend the rest of my life trying to be the man, and the husband, you deserve.”

Theadosia’s smile brightened, and she arched up onto her toes to press a long, lingering kiss to his lips. When they parted, Loghain gently took the box back and carefully removed the ring, slipping it onto her finger. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, examining it as he wrapped her in his arms and she nestled her head against his chest.

“I am pleased you like it,” he said, relief flooding his senses.

“So what do you think?” She asked as they continued walking, her hand in his. “Tomorrow? Bet Nora could pull some strings. You will forgive my impatience, but I have been waiting a _very_ long time for this. It certainly took you long enough.”

Loghain laughed quietly, bending down and pressing a kiss to Theadosia’s lips.

“Anything you want, Theadosia.”


End file.
